


dreaming of starting fires

by heavensgate



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse, Cheerleaders, F/F, Fallen Star, Femslash, Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, Magic Realism, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex, they're only cheerleaders because im gay and i wanted to imagine them in cute skirts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15863151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavensgate/pseuds/heavensgate
Summary: Trick is a star, she’s been doing the whole cheerleading thing for years now so she was pretty much a living legend within the Chicago cheerleading scene. She jumps and lingers in the air a little longer than what should be possible and she shines and captures the whole crowd’s attention when the light hits her; on anyone else, it would look like light penetrating see through purple cellophane, but on Trick it’s a supernova exploding from beneath her skin.or the one where Trick is an actual star and Pete might be failing her last year of university, but she helps Trick save the world anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a month and a half ago and was originally going to post this when I would be at least 80% done with writing it but yesterday I talked to the cute girl I liked for the second time ever and found out she knew I existed so I'm still riding on that gay girl high and couldn't wait to share this. Title is from long time coming from saints of valory; it's the cheesiest song ever but it makes me feel warm inside.
> 
> updates are going to be every saturday !

The only reason Pete hasn’t dropped out of university yet is because of cheerleading. Pete only joined it in her freshman year just because she wanted the football team to notice her and so she wouldn’t spend half the day staring at her apartment ceiling like she did in high school. But at the end of freshman year, Pete had stared at the ceiling for most of the two semesters and ended up hating all the boys in the team after sleeping with more than half of them anyway. At least it turns out she was good at it— cheerleading that is, not fucking. 

Pete explains this all to her roommate, Joe, who just stares at her funny and laughs at all the right parts; Joe even asks for more dirty details about the guys Pete fucked which Pete gladly shares and only exaggerates a little bit. Pete’s usually not like this, she’s only telling Joe because they’re both a little too drunk and miserable for a Wednesday night; Pete had failed an exam earlier that week and Joe’s boyfriend had been cheating on her so they both decided to take a midnight trip to the liquor store and buy wine they didn’t have the money for. They're crying loud and ugly sobs that would be embarrassing if either of them were to run into their neighbors the next morning on the way out. The only comfort the whole situation brought was that at least the two of them would be too drunk to remember anything when they wake up.

Pete thought Joe was pretty cool. It was almost halfway through the semester, but this was the first time she’s ever properly spoken to Joe. There were a few hey’s and good morning’s whenever they ran into each other, and Pete could distinctly remember a conversation about Lifetime at some point when Joe first moved in, but Joe had practically lived in her then-boyfriend’s room before they broke up. Joe had mostly treated their room as a place to stash her guitar and clothes, only visiting to pick up some clean clothes or a book she had forgotten for class. In another universe where Pete was normal and had actual friends instead of stilted conversations with the girls on her squad and a revolving door of fuck buddies that had slowly tricked down the past month, she’d like think that she and Joe would have been best friends.

“This is shit for 90$.” Joe grumbles, but she takes a long drink straight from the bottle anyway. “This girl in my history class said it was like, tasting the stars, she’s a creative-lit major so, like, what would she know anyway, right?”

Pete nods as Joe continues to rant about metaphors and the  _high-fucking-horse of humanities students, really Pete, I can’t fucking stand them_ ’s, not really listening. It felt like her whole face was tingling and she had almost dropped the bottle when Joe passes it back to her. Joe laughed loudly at that and called Pete out for being a lightweight.

“I see where he’s coming from, the liking someone I’m not supposed to part,” Pete admits, when Joe tells her a story about a Theology classmate announcing he was in love with his girlfriend’s best friend in front of the whole class last week. “I’m a little in love with the head cheerleader in my squad.”

Joe grimaces and makes a disgusted noise, “Dude, no way, that’s like a whole different thing. Yours is probably cute; Andrew from Theology is just a dick.”

Pete shrugs and picks at the fraying edges of their carpet, there was a suspicious stain on the corner that couldn’t be wiped away no matter how hard she had tried; Pete had theorized earlier during the start of the year that it was either period blood or a spilled cherry drink from the previous tenant’s parties. “I just don’t like liking straight girls, it makes me feel like a creep. I’ve liked her ever since she joined the team when I was in sophomore year, so it makes me feel even worse that I still like her. I don’t even think I want her, I just like the thought of her, you know?”

Pete vomits the words out like she would be vomiting all this wine the next morning before she could stop herself. Pete wishes she was letting this all out into the toilet instead of her roommate. Pete doesn’t look at Joe, feeling a little bad that she was telling the girl she’s only really talked to tonight about her weird gay fixation without knowing if Joe would even be alright with her being gay. It was the wine's fault; alcohol loosened Pete’s tongue too much and always left her a little soft and vulnerable. When Joe claps Pete shoulder with a small smile and it’s only a little awkward, there’s a little spark in Pete’s chest that makes her think that maybe it doesn’t have to be another universe, maybe she and Joe could be friends now.

They exchange the dirty carpet for their beds after that, Joe drifting off to sleep almost immediately, leaving Pete to look at the stars outside for company, her head still light and fuzzy. Pete thought it was kind of crazy, that she had stared out this same window and had looked up into this same night sky her freshman year and had felt an all consuming loneliness well up inside her. Pete thinks that last week she was thinking of jumping out of the window, just for the hell of it, just because she was high off the ground enough. Just last night, Pete felt like she was up to her hips in sadness, the feeling sticking to her skin like glue. Now it feels different, like some things might end up alright; tonight had been a good night, some nights were like that.

Pete fixes her eyes on what she hopes is the same star as the one from three years, ago last week, last night, and she wishes just like she always does ever since freshman year, the same fucking wish that never seems to happen for longer than a blink or a night like this.

 

 

“I’m your head cheerleader.” Trick says, staring down at all the freshman who were fidgeting uncomfortably underneath her glare. Pete hides her smile underneath her hand and ducks her head, hoping none of the other girls notice. Trick was always such a hardass, especially in the beginning when she tries to scare the freshmen off, but she almost got them into nationals last year so nobody minds her attitude anymore. Trick was only a control freak during practice; once rehearsals are over and she's hiding underneath her trucker hats again, the loudest thing out of her mouth would be a loud, fully body laugh that leaves Pete's insides warm. “I’m Trick, and I don’t care what you’ve heard, it’s not Tricia, not Trish, not Pat, and definitely not Patricia.”

All of the freshmen nod immediately, the idolizing hero-worship look in their eyes directed at Trick was familiar and normal, it happened every year when the new batch was accepted; that and Pete recognized the look on her own face sometimes. Trick is a star, she's been doing the whole cheerleading thing for years now so she was pretty much a living legend within the Chicago cheerleading scene. She jumps and lingers in the air a little longer than what should be possible and she shines and captures the whole crowd’s attention when the light hits her; on anyone else, it would look like light penetrating see through purple cellophane, but on Trick it’s a supernova exploding from beneath her skin.

So Pete had a little crush on the head cheerleader, so what? The whole city was probably halfway in love with her too.

Trick finishes the orientation and her gaze lands on Pete for a second as if she noticed that Pete hadn’t been paying attention. Pete hopes that maybe Trick could read her mind or hear the way her heart was beating so fucking loud right now. But if Trick had psychic mind-reading abilities or superhuman hearing it would have made the past two years easier—or difficult, depending on how you looked at it— for Pete.

Pete tries not to feel disappointed when Trick’s eyes move away from Pete to answer a question from one of the freshmen.

 

 

After practice, Pete was alone underneath the little bus stop shed, waiting for the heavy rain that came out of nowhere to stop and was cursing under her breath for bringing a broken umbrella to practice, when a familiar figure ran for shelter next to Pete. It was Trick, still dressed in her cheerleading uniform, the white blouse slightly transparent from the rain so the tease of her red bra was seen. Pete immediately looked away, her stomach twisting with guilt and her face heating up; this was exactly what the girls in her squad accused Pete of.

“Hi, Wentz.” Trick greets politely, teeth chattering quietly as she unsuccessfully tried to wipe the rain off her skin, only succeeding in spreading the dampness even more. “Sorry for drenching you a little.”

Pete shrugs, still unable to form a coherent sentence so she lets out a strangled noise instead that she hopes passes for reassurance. Trick doesn’t reply, but she smiles at Pete before bringing her phone out to call someone. Pete felt the squirming in her stomach disappear at the sound of Trick’s breathing and occasional quiet giggles at whoever she was talking to mix with the rain. Pete felt calm inside, a yearning in her chest that wasn’t exactly unpleasant replacing the heavy weight that had made it hard to breathe. Being around Trick was difficult Pete realizes. Maybe Pete could settle for this, or maybe Pete could grow up and graduate and forget about Trick; the former seems easier, the latter sounds better, but neither were very realistic.

Trick was a modern Aphrodite and Pete is mortal enough to not be able to give her up. Trick was probably made of the same thing as the stars Pete wished from. Pete was just Pete; if she were lucky enough, at best she might be made of the same thing as the grey clouds above them. 

“This rain is never going to end,” Trick mutters into her phone, and Pete wonders idly if it’s a boyfriend or a roommate. Not that it matters, Pete sternly thinks to herself with a frown. Pete is still frowning when Trick drops the call a second later and turns to face Pete with a small smile, sticking her phone in the waistband of her cheerleading skirt. Pete’s caught off guard when Trick asks her if she was going to the annual welcoming night for the new squad members next Saturday.

“I want to but, uh, probably not.” Pete says with a shaky laugh. “You know how the girls are, I don’t want to make it weird for them.”

Trick looked genuinely confused as her nose wrinkled and a small frown formed on her lips. Pete wonders if Trick was really that oblivious or if she was just a good actress. But maybe she really didn’t know. Trick hadn’t been part of the squad yet when Pete had been a freshman and someone in the football team had spread a rumor about her getting off to the girls in the squad when they would change in the locker rooms. It was practically a miracle that Pete even made it on the squad the next year.

“It’s not a big deal,” Pete explains hastily after an awkward silence. “Some shit happened before you got here, and I like girls, so, like—”

“Oh, that’s stupid.” Trick says, suddenly understanding, and Pete forgets what she was going to say because Trick actually sounded like she meant it.

“I’m sorry,” Trick continues genuinely. “I really didn’t know. I’m friends with the girls but I don’t really hang out with them outside practice like everyone else, you know?”

Pete, does in fact, know; in their squad of twenty girls, there were only maybe four girls, including Trick and Pete, who didn’t eat with the rest of them during lunch like a stupid high school movie cliché or go to parties with each other every night. When Trick first joined the squad, looking like the perfect image of the anti-cheerleader with her choppy strawberry blonde bangs, thick thighs, and rumpled denim jacket, Pete had hopefully thought that maybe she could finally find a friend within the squad. Looking back now, it was pretty lame of her to think. Trick was Trick; she was always going to be meant for something more than what Pete could ever give.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say sorry.” Pete mumbles a little too late, looking down at her beat up Nike’s, the rain seeping in where there was a small hole on the sole.

It was silent again, but it wasn’t the calming one from before. Pete could feel Trick’s pity radiating from the other girl’s skin and she hated it, hot embarrassment filling her. “Hey,” Trick tries to start, voice a little unsure. “I’m going to welcoming night, because you know, it would be kind of rude if I don’t because I’m the head cheerleader and the freshmen—”

Pete raised her eyes to meet Trick’s and there was no pity in her blue eyes, maybe a little embarrassment but it wasn’t aimed at Pete. Trick’s face was a light pink as she stuttered and mumbled something about forgetting the point. Pete couldn’t help the surprised smile that was forming on her face.

“Anyway,” Trick says, looking shyly at her hands that were tugging on the ends of her cheerleading skirt. “I usually just hide in the bathtub by myself in those things. You can stay with me there if you want.

“I’m pretty sure they don’t really like me either.” Trick adds with an amused look on her face, like she doesn’t really care, but Pete can sense an underlying sense of hurt underneath it too. Pete allows herself to hope that maybe Trick is as lonely as her, which is a thought she immediately kills; she wouldn’t want Trick to ever feel that way.

It’s silent for too long and Pete wants to say something stupid, something dirty or charming, something that she would probably say if this wasn’t Trick, the same girl she’s been a little in love with for the past two years. This could have been her chance, but instead Pete says, maybe a little too strongly, “It doesn’t matter if they do, you’re better than all of us combined.”

Pete’s face immediately heats up and she can only imagine how red her face would look like if she were as pale as Trick was. Pete is desperately wishing for the ground to swallow her or for some miracle to take back what she said, but then Trick smiles, a wide grin that makes her whole face light up. The air around them suddenly feels electric, Pete’s skin was buzzing and her insides felt like gold. “It stopped raining,” was all Trick said in reply, her eyes still trained on Pete.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Pete trying to figure out what the look Trick was giving her meant. Pete gives up and breaks eye contact to peer outside the shed, noticing that the rain really had calmed to a quiet drizzle. Raindrops slip into the curve of Pete’s bottom lip and she couldn’t stop the tip of her tongue from darting out to catch it. When Pete looks back at Trick, she’s looking at Pete’s mouth, her own pink lips in a small smile. Trick remains quiet and expectant, like she’s waiting for Pete to do something. Something inside Pete suddenly aches; all Pete really wants to do is kiss Trick  _now_.

Pete takes a step forward and then takes it back when Trick’s phone begins to ring loudly. Trick looks away with an embarrassed smile as she reaches for her phone to answer it. The electricity Pete had felt earlier is gone now and now all she feels is wet and sweaty. There’s a ringing in Pete’s ears and she suddenly feels so stupid, standing next to Trick, who has already seemed to have forgotten Pete as she talks excitedly on the phone about watching a movie later that night. All Pete can do is drop her head and tell Trick she’ll see her on Saturday, not even bothering to see if Trick had heard her.

Pete tries not to, but she runs to her apartment, the guilt that came every time Pete thought of Trick, or any other straight girl really, was crawling up her throat. Pete hopes that if she runs fast enough and if she stomps hard enough with each footfall to the pavement, maybe the it would go away.

Later in bed, Pete stares at the same star that night and fucking aches, fucking wishes that things could be as simple as that; as simple as the rain coming and then Trick making it feel like it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty nervous bc this is the first thing I've written and posted online since like maybe 2011 on Wattpad lmao so I would love to hear comments and critique from you guys (esp if i have any mistakes bc this whole thing is unbeta'd) but kudos would be v sweet and make me smile too!! u can also hit me up on tumblr @ supersfade.tumblr.com which I made just to post fic bec I'm way too embarrassed that people irl will see it lmao anyway hopefully I'll see you guys next Saturday!!


	2. Chapter 2

Pete doesn’t know how she ended up here. In a small apartment bathroom with alcohol burning her stomach while couples kissed on couches, floors, and against walls in the door behind them. This could possibly get her kicked out of the cheerleading squad if any of the other girls were to find out. Pete and Trick weren’t doing anything _wrong_ , but Pete has been in the team with Trick for two years now and the other girl hadn’t shown anything beyond polite interest in her at all before last Thursday. It could be so easy for Trick to run out the door, to scream and point fingers at Pete, to cower behind the other girls. Pete could lose her little crush, she can lose the little trust the squad had for her; Pete doesn’t care, but she _can’t_ lose cheerleading.

But after the two years of watching Trick from afar and all the red cups of yellow liquid that made Pete’s stomach warm and forget about everyone in the squad hating her, Pete was starting to forget why this could be considered a bad idea; she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. They haven’t spoken at all ever since Pete had opened the door and found Trick hiding in the tub just like she said she would. They’ve barely moved in the past minute since Pete locked the door behind her. Pete’s a little scared that the whole thing might disappear if she were to even speak. Pete doesn’t know what Trick’s excuse is.

Maybe it was the alcohol in Pete’s system, but this time, time feels right. This time, time is now. The time was right, and it was now; it was right now. This time felt different. It felt like some sort of sign from the stars, that if Pete doesn’t kiss Trick now, she won’t ever have another chance.

Pete nervously began to step closer to Trick, as if she had the courage to kiss the other girl. The distance between the door and the bathtub suddenly felt longer than it actually was. Trick stands up from her place in the bathtub, her eyes flickering with interest. Pete’s been obsessing about the way Trick had looked at her last Thursday; green-brown-blue eyes flickering from Pete’s lips and then to Pete’s eyes. There was something there, Pete knows it, it just took two nights and three bottles of shitty beer to make Pete realize that.

When Pete was near enough to count the spots of darker gold in Trick’s eyes, Trick steps back and leans on the bathroom wall, smiling knowingly at Pete, as if she could possibly know how hard Pete’s heart was beating right now, how bad Pete has wanted something like this for years, how bad she’s wanted her. Trick blows a cloud of bitter smoke in Pete’s face, her own becoming obscured behind the gray for a second and Pete thinks it’s sad that it looks fake, that maybe Trick smokes to be romantic and mysterious, and how the cigarette she holds in-between her fingers looks like she does it in defiance.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Trick asks, interrupting Pete’s thoughts. Trick raises her nose and her bright eyes at Pete, as if she could read her mind. Pete blushes when she's caught staring at the girl. Trick continues with a sly smile, “I’m a pretty good kisser.”

“I don’t even know if you’re gay.” Pete answers quietly and honestly, hoping that her voice had the confidence she didn’t have.

Trick laughs like Pete had said something funny and drops her cigarette into the bathtub. Pete’s heart begins to beat faster when Trick moves forward ( _tooclosetooclosetooclose)_  and holds Pete’s wrists as she shakes her head with laughter. Pete thinks Trick laughing because of her might be the best sound Pete has ever heard. Trick leans in close, her face only a breath away from Pete’s, and all Pete could smell was Trick’s shampoo and the beer Trick had been drinking.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re nervous.” she says suddenly shy to Pete’s shoes but Pete could still see the small smile on her face. It’s so simple, but something in Pete’s chest shifts, like her ribcage has been dislodged up until this moment of maybe, possibly, having a chance at this. “I-- I never really... I heard about you, but I thought they were just rumors, and-- ”

And Pete doesn’t know who leaned first, if she had the courage or if Trick grew frustrated at not having the right words, but they were kissing now, their lips sliding easily against each other’s. And Pete, she should be afraid, but the feeling of Trick’s lips against hers feels natural and warm. Pete thought that a kiss like this would be dry and taste like spit and smoke, but Trick tastes sweet; she tastes like last Thursday when Pete opened her mouth and tasted the rain.

Pete is the first to pull away, not because she wanted to, but because she needed to see Trick. A kissed-Trick was something Pete never knew she needed to see, or something that she ever would be allowed to; Trick’s cheeks were in a warm blush, her lipstick smeared on the corner of her mouth, and her usually pink lips were red from kissing. Trick pouts playfully and leans in again to bite Pete’s bottom lip. Pete feels like she’s in a dream when Trick slips her arms around her and rests her hands on the small of Pete’s back.

They pull away again, this time to breathe, but they’re both smiling. Trick doesn’t say anything but Pete could feel her thinking, could feel her wanting to open her mouth just as much as Pete wants to. Pete is about to say something stupid like they should go to Pete’s apartment or go out of the bathroom and hold hands, but before she could say anything she was interrupted by a thunderous knocking coming from outside the bathroom door accompanied by something crude and loud laughter.

“Oh fuck,” Trick mutters. Her warm hands disappear from where they were and Pete feels a little colder than what should be possible. “I’ll go out first to save you from the embarrassment.”

And the electricity between them is gone just like that; it was gone so fucking fast that Pete could still feel the tingle on her lips from when Trick bit too hard. Pete wants to be hurt, wants to punch the wall and throw a tantrum about how unfair it was. She’s heard about these parties, she’s heard about the threesomes between the girls and their boyfriends, so why can’t Pete have this? It’s just not _fair_ that they can take everything from Pete. That Pete was never allowed to have something like this, something good for her, and something that could make her happy. Pete isn’t mad at the squad, she fucking blames the universe, the cosmic being up there, who gives her this feeling of happiness in the form of Trick, with her red mouth and hair that smelled distinctly of honey, only to take it away.

But Pete gets it, gets why this is difficult, so she’s left nodding stiffly, desperately trying to meet Trick’s eyes to show her she still wants this. It could be her and Trick against the world, just not now; Pete is okay with that, really she is.

“Actually, you can--” Trick clears her throat and gestures towards the open window next to the shower. Trick lowers her head again to avoid Pete’s gaze, and instead of being endearing like it had been a few minutes ago, it just makes acid rise up Pete’s throat.

“Oh.”Pete flushes with embarrassment.

“Goodnight, Pete. Um, it was nice.” Trick says quickly and turns away as more knocking comes from the door.

Pete steps out of the window, shivering when the cold air met her bare skin, she feels tears sting her eyes when she remembers earlier that evening when she borrowed Joe’s stupid Elvis Costello t-shirt specifically for Trick, because Pete knows Trick worships the guy. Pete doesn’t even know any fucking songs by him, so now she’s left feeling stupid and cold because the shirt is too thin and she hadn’t bothered to bring a jacket with her.

Before Pete jumps off the roof, she steals a glance at Trick, hoping that maybe the other girl was watching her go, that maybe she’d change her mind, that maybe she’d kiss Pete before Pete left. Pete wanted anything, anything that would make her feel like this wasn’t a mistake or something she only dreamt of.

But all she saw was Trick’s back, skin glowing gold underneath the bathroom’s cheap fluorescent lights. Pete bites her tongue just in case she could muster the venom to say something cruel, but it’s Trick, and Pete can’t imagine ever wanting to. So Pete just jumps off the roof without a word. Pete closes her eyes and pretends for a second that this is what it would feel like to fall.

All Pete ever seems to do after being with Trick is run away from her.

 

 

Pete dreams of Trick that night.

Pete dreams in half-formed thoughts, seeing Trick through the screen of a supercut; the colors are too vivid and the scenes are all faded and blurry; Trick’s face fading in and out of focus like Pete’s mom’s old videocam from the 90’s. The scene starts with Pete and Trick in an unfamiliar bed next to a window. Pete hears music that sounds like it was coming from a dirty vinyl record, pops and crackles and skips in the song. But when Pete looks around, she doesn’t see where the music could be coming from. When Pete looks back to Trick, Trick has lazily stretched her arm out of an open window where a coffee mug appears and she tells Pete the Milky Way is the sweetest coffee creamer with a funny look on her face.

Trick’s mouth opens as if she was about to say something more but before she could speak, Pete’s eyes fly open, unsure if she was awake until she saw the familiar apartment ceiling illuminated by the moonlight. Pete blinks and all she remembers was that Trick’s skin was a rosy pink, blending in with the yellowing floral wallpaper above their heads; roses upon roses, it had looked like they were choking each other. Pete hopes she’s awake for real this time. Pete selfishly doesn’t want to think of a universe where there was a Pete and a Trick that were happy together while she wasn’t; she wants Trick all to herself.

Pete stays awake, watches the blue be replaced by the soft lavender of the sunrise. Eventually Joe wakes up too, and Pete listens to the sounds of her noisily walking around their apartment, making coffee, and the sizzle of oil on the pan, before pretending to wake up herself.

“What time did you get home?” Joe asks sleepily, not asking why Pete was awake this early on a Sunday. “I got home earlier than you did and I went to a group study thing.”

Pete shrugs and mumbles a reply, she feels so out of it, she still feels hollow from last night like someone had taken away all sense of emotion while she had been asleep. Joe doesn’t notice Pete’s unusual silence and proceeds to tell a long joke about how Pete was good at cheerleading but bad at being a cheerleader. Pete smiles faintly, fork scraping her eggs across her plate.

Joe was about to leave to go to the gym, already halfway out the door when she turns to Pete with a loud, “Oh! You know Gabe? She said you guys were friends? We were in group study together and she told me to tell you to reply to her texts.”

Joe has a look on her face, somewhere between amused and interested, she opens her mouth to say something but closes it and waves at Pete instead. After Joe leaves, Pete throws out the rest of her breakfast into the trash can, the runny eggs suddenly making her stomach squirm. Pete washes the dishes and pans to avoid her phone, doing it as slow as possible. Pete's halfheartedly wiping the table for the second time when she gives up halfway to pad to her room to check Gabe’s texts, succumbing to her curiosity.

Pete only slightly grimaces when she’s reminded that she has over sixty unread messages from numerous people; most are from her mom, some are groupmates from last school year, some were fuck buddies she’s been avoiding, some were people she considered friends. Pete’s not friendless the same way she was in high school, it’s not like she doesn’t have friends to hang out with, she still gets invited to parties every weekend and people still nod when they see her in the hallways. It’s just that Pete realized in her junior year that nobody seems to stick around for longer than an hour around her so she just stopped trying to reach out to people, a small part of her hoping that someone would notice. But nobody did and the damage is done; Pete’s ego is more than a little bruised.

She scrolls down a bit until she finds Gabe’s texts. Gabe's last text was over two weeks ago, but there were ten more unanswered texts from when the semester had started. Pete feels a little bit of guilt bubble her stomach but she pushes it down. Most texts were asking Pete for notes or to go to a party. There were maybe two texts in there, including the last text, which had invited Pete to Gabe’s room.

 _Miss u. Thnk i frgot what yr ta2s taste lke._ Pete thinks that Gabe might be the only person who would think that text could be considered remotely romantic but it makes her smile and her chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore; Pete likes this, the feeling of being wanted and remembered.

 _U can taste all u want later @ 8, but dinner 1st. Ur treat & ur room. See u. _Pete texts back and she’s not even thinking about Trick anymore. She could get through this stupid crush, it’s not going to kill her.

Gabe calls a few hours after that, while Pete was in the middle of reading through her Philosophy chapter for the week. “You made me feel like a desperate fool, Wentz.” Gabe’s said reproachfully, but it was playful. “You’re the only fuck I’ve ever double texted.”

“It was to humble you.” Pete replied absentmindedly.

Gabe laughs at that and Pete couldn’t help the smile that forms on her face. “Anyway, I just had seven shitty dates and I actually wanted it to work out with half of them. I need a distraction.”

Pete’s smile disappears and she feels a drop in her stomach at that. Pete wants to feel like a second option, wants to feel offended and tell Gabe to fuck off and call Pete when she wants her for more than sex. But all Pete feels is lonely. She thinks about Joe who’s never here, the squad who fucking hates her guts, the friends she used to have who didn’t notice when she stopped texting, and Trick who doesn’t even want her; Pete realizes how alone she is surrounded by all these people and it makes her ache, like there was a magnetic force trying to pull and rip her heart out of her chest.

“Pete, are you there? ‘M really horny, I’ll make it good for you.” Gabe’s voice whines.

“Yeah,” Pete says, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I’ll see you later.”

 

 

When Pete sleeps next to Gabe that night, she dreams of Trick again.

Pete's had a weird recurring dream since high school; it’s never always the same, some details have changed as Pete grows older, but the general idea and setting is still there after all these years.

It starts with Pete opening her eyes to a sky full of stars, brighter than they should be considering Pete lives in the city where the smoke and city lights block them out, but they’re bright and they’re falling, shining flashes of light that look like the tail end of fireworks after the big explosion. Pete is always on a roof, sometimes it’s the roof of her home back in Wilmette, for a while it was the roof of her apartment where she’s spent some nights with whoever she was fucking that night, but tonight it was the roof of the house party she had jumped out of last Saturday.

Pete is always lying next to someone on the roof, no matter what, but Pete never considered turning her head to see who she could be sharing the meteor shower with, always content to bask in the comforting warmth that the touch of the other person’s bare skin provided, and Pete’s okay with that. If Pete’s unconscious wanted to see them as her symbolic soulmate or whatever whenever she was sad, well, she was the only one who knew.

But for some reason, something in this dream shifts and dream-Pete isn’t following the script. After watching three stars fall from the sky, Pete turns to face whoever it is laying next to her for the first time. Pete turns her head and is only a little surprised to see Trick’s face staring back at her, inches away, close enough to kiss.

Dream-Trick smiles at Pete and asks her, “Are you going to kiss me?” and the voice is all wrong, it isn’t the same sweet voice of the Trick Pete knew; it’s haunting and cold like the locker room when Pete's all alone and the chatter of the other girls isn't there to fill it up. Pete maybe wants to cry in frustration that she can’t even dream of Trick properly, eyes pricking with tears at the realization that this was a dream and not reality. Pete hates her brain, hates the brain that feels too much and too little and who can’t even seem to dream her something happy and real.

“Stop thinking so much, I can hear you from here.” she whispers into Pete’s ears and Pete can’t help but laugh hysterically. Pete sniffles and dream-Trick wipes the tears with her thumb, drawing soothing circles until Pete could convince herself to just take whatever her brain gave her.

“I _knew_ you could read my mind during practice.” Pete replies accusingly, a half smile on her face.

Dream-Trick laughs and embraces her, cold hands finding the small of her back; Pete thinks of phantom aches and last Saturday night. Dream-Trick holds her close and pushes them both off the roof. With Pete’s back to the ground, she can’t see how high they were, all she could see were the stars falling and the glow of dream-Trick’s eyes that were shining gold now. She and dream-Trick fall way too slowly, the air pushing up against Pete’s back uncomfortably. Pete’s hands shake as she cradles dream-Trick’s face and dream-Trick lets her. Pete leans in to kiss her, and just as their lips were about to touch, she wakes up.

Pete lies awake next to Gabe, heart beating hard and fast against her chest like it was trying to escape. The dream felt so vivid; Pete could still feel the weight of Trick’s eyes on her as she breathed in the air Trick exhaled. Pete shifted away from Gabe, putting a pillow between them. Pete was an asshole, but she wasn’t an asshole who would dream about someone else while next to someone she fucked recently.

Pete shuts her eyes and tries to slow down her breathing, desperately hoping that she could dream and wake up where she had left off. She’s been aching to taste Trick again, has been ever since that Saturday night she finally was able to; she realizes that she sounds like the boys she fucking hated but Pete couldn’t shake away the pull in her chest, it still fucking _hurt_ and she didn’t even understand why. Pete lies awake for what feels like hours, but her eyes remained firmly closed until the sunlight starts filtering in through the window.

It was maybe another hour more before Pete felt Gabe move and mumble something about Pete needing to leave for practice. When Pete glanced back at Gabe’s face, she was already asleep again, but Pete knew a dismissal when she heard one. Pete leaves silently, stealing a coffee packet and fruit cup from Gabe’s miserable fridge. Pete's not really hungry, doesn't really need Gabe's shitty food, she just wants Gabe to acknowledge her presence with the absence of something since nobody ever seemed to noticed when she was gone.

 

 

The thing is, Pete falls in love with everyone. The guy who’s been delivering her pizza for the past year and a half? Pete daydreams about him during her law class. The girl in the coffee shop who’s only been working there for a month? Pete’s heart still flutters and she feels butterflies everytime she speaks to her. Pete’s half friend who was in her lit class back when she was a freshman who smiled at her differently for a few months? Pete still blushes whenever they see each other in the halls. Pete was even a little in love with fucking Gabe Saporta of all people.

Pete remembers the first time she saw Trick. It was raining outside, just a drizzle, not like the rainstorm from last Thursday. Pete was watching it from the front steps of her old apartment, smoking a cigarette and waiting for some guy, Chris she thinks, to get there and fuck her so she can let all the pent up energy out of her and read her readings for the weekend. Back when she was only taking her medication once a month and fucking to feel something. At the time, Pete thought it was romantic, finding medicine in someone else’s body, until it just felt like everyone took a piece of her with every fuck and left her more hollow than before.

It was from there that Pete saw Trick, running to the front of the apartment next door with a friend, a jacket shared between them to hide them from the rain. Trick was laughing, her head thrown back so her wet hair had hit everywhere and her friend complained loudly. Trick only laughed louder, and Pete could still remember the pink of her lips, her mouth turned to face the sky, looking like they were going to taste the rain. Pete remembers feeling like she was suddenly so thirsty at that moment.

The point Pete is trying to convince herself is that Trick isn’t special. Pete’s always like this. It’s normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention this im a dumbass lmao but y'all should check out [johannes muller franken's painting, caserna poya,](http://new.mueller-franken.de/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/Caserne-Poya-mueller-franken.jpg) bc it was the inspiration to make trick and pete cheerleaders in this. also i think it depicts such a longing and gentle intimacy and it's just sweet.
> 
> also, kudos and comments would b much appreciated hehe, esp if you guys want me to improve anything, but thank you if you're still reading this!!! see you all next saturday :--)


	3. Chapter 3

Trick stares at Pete throughout the first hour of practice and it’s honestly distracting in the worst way. Half of Pete is conscious of every movement she does which causes her to slip up and the other half is anxious that there’s something on her face that shows she’s been dreaming of Trick for the past two nights in a row, which causes her to slip up even more. Dream-Trick telling Pete that she could read her mind replays over and over in Pete’s head like a broken cassette tape.

“Everyone stop, fucking stop-  _Goddamnit_ , Pete.” Trick shouts in frustration when Pete accidentally bumps into one of the girls for the third time. Pete’s face heats up and she immediately looks down at her feet, but not before she saw a few of the girls in the team smile in satisfaction.

“Do you need me to send you home?” Trick asks venomously. Pete hears the sound of feet stamping down the wet grass and then Pete was looking at Trick’s sneakers. It was new and still immaculate, Pete couldn’t help but feel a little angry at it next to the Nike’s she’s had since high school.

Pete scowls and stiffly shakes her head in reply, not trusting her mouth to not say how Trick already did that last Saturday.

“We have a competition in a month and we’re not even halfway done with the routine!” Trick continues, this time to everyone else. “Everyone just go home, this fucking sucked.”

Pete feels the glare of the other girls for ruining practice because everyone knows Trick will be in an even worse mood next practice when they’re more pressed for time. Pete refuses to move or even raise her head until she feels that everyone is gone.

When she’s certain that it was only her and Trick left, the other girl loudly shuffling papers that fell out of her duffel bag and muttering under her breath, Pete looks up to Trick’s back. “You’re a fucking bitch,” Pete said with only half the venom and hurt she was feeling. “You didn’t have to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

Trick remains silent, stuffing her sneakers into the duffel bag and slowly drinking from her water bottle. She doesn’t turn around until she’s finished drinking water, and when she meets Pete’s eyes there’s a flash of anger in them. “You were affecting everyone else. What, are you too tired?” Trick asks, her gaze fixed on the hollow of Pete’s neck where she knows Gabe bit and sucked too hard last night.

“Fuck you.” Pete answers with a scowl. Pete turns around to walk away from Trick when she adds, “I wouldn’t have done it, if I knew you were going to regret it.”

“Done what?” Trick asks and Pete knows if she turned around she’d see the nasty sneer on Trick’s face. Pete didn’t think Trick would ever be like this; this girl and the girl from last Thursday couldn’t be the same people. Trick was different in the way Dream-Trick had been; unsettling like someone was only wearing her skin, like Pete was waiting for Trick to open her mouth and hear someone else’s voice come out. _Fucking straight girls,_ Pete thinks as her eyes sting a bit and she grimaces to hold them back.

“Whatever,” Pete mutters and begins to walk towards the field exit. She goes straight to the bus stop, not bothering to change in the locker rooms and seeing Trick there. 

The whole bus ride home, Pete listens to the angriest music she could find, loud throbbing bass lines and shredded raw vocals. Pete could almost feel herself reverting back to her shitty high school coping mechanisms, the ones she used to deal with all that anger at the world and herself. Pete writes on the back of a Starbucks receipt she found in the pocket of her windbreaker, words and ink pour out of her until she loses space, until she could barely read what she had wrote. Pete begins to write on the skin above her ankle, just above the tiny little x tattoo she gave herself in Math class when she was sixteen, pressing the pen deep into her skin until it hurt.

On her ankle, Pete writes about the first time and the biting cold. On her knees, it’s the rain and how it had tasted the second time last Saturday. On her thighs, it’s the blood on her knees when she skinned them on the pavement after jumping off the roof. Pete writes everything she’s ever known about Trick on that inch of skin, and everything she thought she knew about Trick into that tiny little receipt. Pete knows she’s being dramatic, knows she’s acting shitty, but she feels like she’s losing her mind. Her head throbs to the beat of the drums in her earphones and there’s a buzzing underneath her fingertips where the skin meets the plastic of the pen. Pete knows her anger isn’t really directed at Trick, but it still feels good to blame someone for her fucked up head.

When she passes by the stoplight near her stop, Pete rips the receipt into shreds and throws the pieces of paper out the bus. In the distance between the stoplight and the bus stop, Pete begins to furiously scrub her leg, which only leaves the ink smudged and her skin burning. Pete’s okay with that.

Pete enters her apartment and when it doesn’t work, when it doesn’t feel therapeutic like it’s supposed to, when it doesn’t make Pete feel like too tired to feel anything, Pete ends up showering until Joe comes home two hours later. By the time Pete’s out, warm, wrinkled, and all traces of Trick gone from her leg, she lays on her bed without dinner, reading chapters for her classes without really understanding them. Pete reads and tries to fight off the sleepiness; Pete’s scared that if she sleeps, she might dream of Trick again.

Pete knows it’s morning when she hears Joe begin to stir in the room next to her. Pete hides under her blanket while Joe showers and makes breakfast, she pinches her skin every now and then when her eyes begin to fall closed and she’s stuck in the half-dreaming state where her body floats up but she could still feel the press of the mattress on her side. When Joe tries to wake her for class, Pete ignores her and mumbles frustrated whines and pitiful fake-coughs until Joe leaves.

Pete doesn’t go to class or practice that day, she doesn’t sleep either.

Pete still wishes on the star though. She wishes the same way someone would pray; always asking and asking, eyes raised to where heaven should be, hands clasped tightly together it didn’t look like she was praying anymore, she was begging; in a way, they were both the same thing anyway.

 

 

Pete’s mood lifts somewhat as the week passes, a small part of her is a little relieved she didn't have an episode. Realistically, it’s bound to happen soon, Pete’s waiting for it, the sound of the other shoe to drop from the ceiling above, Pete hasn’t been taking her medication, but it's not on purpose, she's been too busy trying to survive her last year to go get it refilled. Though, Pete knows she should stop relying on the stars to work as a substitute and actually go get real help.

It was Saturday night and Pete’s in the middle of dinner, a miserable combination of microwavable mac and cheese and three day old chicken she had from the Chinese take-out place that was a few blocks away, when Joe stumbles into their apartment with Gabe next to her.

“Petra Louise Kingston Wentz the Third,” Joe exclaims way too loudly, her face slightly pink. She’s draped around Gabe who looked like she was struggling to keep the other girl upright. “We’re here to invite you to the best night of your life.”

Gabe snorts next to Joe and adjusts her grip on Joe’s arm around her shoulder. “She just means we’re invited to this lame party in Ryan’s apartment.”

“I was just about to eat dinner and start my paper for-”

“Pete,” Joe whines, tripping a bit as she steps towards her. Pete holds Joe in her arms and flashes an alarmed look at Gabe who just laughs. Now that Joe was near her, Pete could smell the mixture of weed on her clothes and cheap tequila on her breath.

“You’re the lamest cheerleader I know, I’m _cooler_ than you.” Joe begs, and it’s not mean, only honest in the way a drunk girl would confess. Pete finds it strangely endearing and refreshing. “Please, please, _please._ Can we go _please._ ”

Pete says yes without thinking about it.

The car ride to Ryan’s apartment, which was an hour away from their apartment with traffic and nearer to the city than their university which Pete personally thought was a little stupid and pretentious of Ryan, leaves Pete feeling better. She feels more herself, more like the old Pete who didn’t obsess over girls who won’t give her the time of the day or the nighttime either for that matter, of girls who she had to fight the whole city for her attention. Pete feels like the princess of stupid university parties again, who slips fingers underneath skirts and can unbuckle a belt with just one hand. In between a fond and endearing tipsy Joe and a Gabe who was unlike the Gabe who called her a few nights ago, Pete feels like she could be happy tonight.

Pete’s mood had lifted but the past week was still a disaster that just kept getting worse after Monday practice where Trick had humiliated her and Pete had further embarrassed herself even more by showing just how much she was affected by it. Pete ended up skipping practice for the whole week, ignoring the indignance in her stomach and the feeling that she was running away— she wasn’t. Pete just didn’t let people treat her that way. She misses cheerleading though, the easiness of it, how she could lose herself in focusing to kick high and to keep her form as she twirls in the air. Now Pete is left with a buzzing underneath her skin from all the energy she wasn’t able to burn; Pete’s a little scared of the inevitable low she was going to feel and the much nearer possibility of doing something impulsive and something she’d regret. She could almost feel it, the dark thoughts and empty feelings buzzing underneath her skin, waiting for something or nothing to trigger it.

When they arrive, Gabe and Joe leave Pete without meaning to. Joe sees someone she knows from one of her Psychology classes and drifts off to talk to them, while Gabe sees an ex and ducks to hide in the kitchen, probably to look for someone to pretend to date. Pete doesn’t mind, she sees a few familiar faces and smiles at them as she grabs a beer from the cooler haphazardly thrown next to the front door, and sets out to look for one of the couches Ryan appoints for making out. All stupid house parties are the same to Pete now, they were practically routine at this point.

“I’m serious, Wentz.” Ryan says only half threateningly from the kitchen when he spots Pete. “If you try to fuck someone on my couch _again_ , I’m never letting you back in my apartment.” 

Not more than ten minutes later, Pete finds herself straddling Ryan’s lap in his bedroom; they’re making out, slow and easy. Ryan’s hair, longer and curlier than the last time they’ve fucked, tickles Pete and she giggles in that high pitched laugh that she learned all guys liked to hear and settles her full weight down on his thighs. Ryan groans softly in her ear and Pete feels the vibrations coming from his chest.

“Missed you, I haven’t seen you in months.” Ryan whispers hotly, writhing underneath her, searching for friction.

Pete thinks that everyone seems to have missed her, but not enough to want to actually reach out for more than a fuck, but doesn’t say anything. Instead she asks, “What were you saying about fucking again?” as she rests her chest on Ryan’s to be able to press light kisses on the curve of Ryan’s jaw.

“Less talking,” Ryan mumbles as he drags Pete away from his neck and back to his mouth. “more making out.”

They continue for a few more minutes until Pete is dizzy with the sensation of Ryan underneath her; Pete’s tongue slides in and out of Ryan’s mouth and Ryan unlatches their lips to bite on her collarbones. Ryan’s fingers were underneath Pete’s shirt, about to unclasp her bra when his phone begins to ring way too loud on the side table next to them.

Pete groans and mumbles a don’t even fucking think about it that Ryan ignores. Ryan retreats his hands from under Pete’s shirt, settling them on her hips. Pete pouts at him as he brings the phone to his ear and begins to talk to whoever it is. He strokes the bare skin where Pete’s shirt doesn’t reach her jeans while he talks slowly and flatly, something about next week’s group presentation. Pete thinks the whole situation is a little ridiculous.

Pete waits patiently for a few minutes, grinding slowly on Ryan’s lap to get his attention and hurry up, but he just sternly shakes his head at her. Pete crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at Ryan, the universal gesture for _what the fuck_. Ryan only shrugs in reply, only looking half sorry, and laughs quietly at whoever he was talking to. Pete grunts indignantly and slides off his lap, she hears Ryan make a protesting noise but she doesn’t look back when she leaves the room. Pete waits outside the door for a few seconds to see if Ryan would come out, but Ryan doesn’t run after her.

Pete sighs and makes her way back to the living room where the party is still going strong, it was probably a bit past midnight already; it was late enough for everyone to be a little drunk by now but not enough for someone to be passed out yet. Pete sees Joe deep in conversation with a group of people on the clean couch and Gabe mysteriously absent from the room. Pete could decide to join Joe and her friends or go look for Gabe, but she suddenly felt tired; not tired enough to go home, but tired enough to not want to look for a mediocre fuck within Ryan’s circle of friends.

Pete finds herself walking to the hallway bathroom, thinking of taking a quick nap or maybe stealing a bottle of wine from Ryan’s kitchen and scrolling through Twitter until Joe’s friends looked for her because Joe has passed out.

Pete stands outside the the bathroom door for a second, hesitating to go in. There was a small voice in her head saying Trick’s name and for a moment she’s thrown back to last Saturday. Pete remembers the hurt, the aching in her chest, the embarrassment heating up her cheeks. Pete’s suddenly hit with a wave of emotions that she considers walking home for a second. Before it can go further than that, she firmly squashes the thought down, thinks back to her therapist chiding her for her irrational fears, and locks the door behind her.

When Pete pushes back Ryan’s shower curtain, she’s only half surprised to see Trick sitting on the tub; in a way, it was to be expected. Trick stares up at her from beneath her trucker hat and Pete physically restrains herself from brushing away Trick’s bangs. Looking into Trick’s eyes, Pete feels that feeling again, the same feeling when Pete had turned her head to see Trick laying next to her in her dream. Pete doesn’t know how to describe it, never having felt it before; it was like waking up and being surprised that the sun was still there, like the sun and stars could suddenly disappear while she was asleep.

“Is that Ryan’s moscato? I was looking for that.” Pete mutters, looking between Trick’s pink face and the bottle of wine she was clutching in her right hand.

Trick just glowers at her and attempts to violently pull the shower curtain back. Pete hands shoot out and holds the shower curtain just as Trick was about to close it. For a few seconds, Pete and Trick silently pull on Ryan’s shower curtain, the only sounds being the metal rings protesting above them.  “Fuck off, Pete.” Trick snaps, still holding on tightly. “Look for another place to hide, this is my spot.”

“Fuck you. I’m not leaving.” Pete replies calmly, it’s been a whole week since The Kiss -capital letters required because it may be a highlight of Pete’s sad life, but she’s not going to admit that right now- and the feelings have dulled down to a sharp ache whenever Pete thinks about the rejection. But still, it was a highlight and it still hurt, so Pete couldn’t blame herself when she sneers, “Why, are you meeting someone here? Did you fuck someone in the bathroom after you got what you wanted from the gay girl?”

Pete watches as Trick’s face grows a deeper shade of red and the hand that was holding the shower curtain drops to her lap. When the anger fades away, Pete wants to feel satisfaction, but all she feels is nothing, the hollow feeling in her chest felt even emptier if that was even possible. Trick doesn’t meet Pete’s eyes, choosing instead to take a quick gulp from the wine bottle. Trick doesn’t say anything after that. Pete doesn’t know what to say, but she wishes she could take it back. Pete didn’t really mean it, not really, maybe just a little bit; Pete didn’t want to hurt Trick, Pete just wanted to show her how much Pete was aching.

Pete sits down outside the tub and rests her arms on the tub’s ledge, she cradles her head and looks at Trick. She tries not to think about when the last time Ryan could have cleaned his tub; for someone who dressed so well, his apartment was always a mess. Pete was thinking of the best way to apologize for what she said when Trick speaks up.

“Thought I saw you go in in Ryan’s room.” Trick says. Pete thinks it was supposed to come out as a dig, it was supposed to hurt her, but it really just sounded like Trick was tired. “Are you going to miss a week of practice again?

Pete waits until Trick is done taking another sip from the mostly empty bottle before replying, “I don’t know,” Pete replies. “Will you humiliate me in front of everyone again?”

Pete watches as Trick begins to sniffle, hot tears filling her eyes and Pete begins to panic. “Hey, ” Pete starts. “Are you alright-”

Trick starts to cry, angry tears rolling down her cheeks and Pete hears frustrated mutters, only understanding bits and pieces, hearing the words: alcohol and drunk and too much wine.

“Were you- were you jealous?” Pete asks maybe a little stupidly, and she thinks immediately how that was the wrong thing to ask. Trick just scowls and balls her hands into tight fists. Pete instinctively leans away, afraid that Trick might punch her in the face.

“You’re a bitch.” Trick says with a heavy sigh, the tears gone now. “Don’t make me say it.”

Trick stares at her, gaze still hard and unforgiving, her mouth in a hard line where her jaw was locked tight. Pete’s hand twitches again, this time with the want to brush away the angry wrinkles between Trick’s eyes.

“You like me.” and Pete doesn’t say it in a mean way; she’s surprised and she feels a flutter in her chest and her heart is beating so fast and loud she’s scared it’s going to crawl out of her mouth and Trick will see. Pete says it in wonder, says it with relief, says it like a sigh, like a prayer, that Trick, this Trick, _Trick_ , wants this too.

“Of course I do, asshole.” Trick snaps. Pete doesn’t know why Trick is embarrassed, how Trick could feel anything but happiness right now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Pete asks, sitting on her knees and leaning into the bathtub again.

“You were just supposed to know.” Trick says, and Pete doesn’t understand what that’s supposed to mean.

“I didn’t even know you were gay until last Saturday!”

“Listen- it doesn’t, it doesn’t fucking matter since you don’t like me back and-” Trick gives up and just growls in frustration, slamming her fists lightly on the bathtub. "I'm being bratty, but sorry, I'm drunk."

“Hey, hey,” Pete comforts her and she begins to lean closer to Trick. Close up, Trick’s face is still horribly red in embarrassment and there are still tear tracks there that cut through Pete’s gut. “who said I didn’t like you?” Pete asks in a soft voice, hoping Trick will hear everything Pete felt for her but didn’t have the words for.

When Trick doesn’t reply, Pete holds her face in her hands just like she did in her dream, and she makes Trick look into her eyes. Trick’s eyes are a shiny blue tonight, her eyelashes wet with tears. “You were just supposed to know, didn’t you feel it.” Trick whispers. It’s not a question, Trick had already accepted it as fact that Pete couldn’t possibly be interested in her. Pete doesn’t know what Trick sees in Pete’s eyes to still think that

Trick’s face fits perfectly in Pete’s hands and she thinks Trick must have been made just for her. “I’ve been waiting for this for the past two years.” Pete says.

It’s way too honest. It’s way too vulnerable. Pete wants to sew her mouth shut, to cut her tongue off, so that she doesn’t scare Trick away. Pete either feels in tsunamis that drown her and spill out of her or she feels nothing at all, hollow inside like she’s felt for the past few days. Pete doesn’t know how to do slow, everything has to be this one big declaration of love; boomboxes in the street at 2 am, pebbles thrown to windows, night drives that lead to nowhere. It’s that or she just bottles it up and ignores it and it slowly eats up her insides. Pete doesn’t want to lose this before she’s even had it.

“This is might be all I’ve ever really wanted.” Pete continues when Trick doesn’t say anything.

It’s not an I love you, but it’s close, and saying what she just said means more to Pete than three stupid words that she’s said to everyone already. It’s not an I love you because it isn’t and Pete would be lying if she said it. It’s not an I love you but it might everything Pete has been feeling for the past two years.

“I’m sorry,” Trick says quietly. “I’m sorry I don’t know how this works and I’m just so stupid and-”

“You’re not.” Pete interrupts her firmly, not breaking Trick’s gaze.

Trick just looks at her, with her wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. Pete watches her close her eyes and lean in. Pete allows herself to close her eyes too and lose herself to the feeling of Trick, warm and hers underneath her fingertips. _Hers,_ Pete thinks she’s allowed to say that now; hers like shared high school letterman jackets and secret notes in class, hers like the special type of soul mates in university where you know it’s only going to last as long as the time you’re here, hers like Pete knows that the magnetic pull in her chest is real because her body has been hardwired to always be attracted to Trick, in every universe, in every body, dreams and reality. It’s better than the first time, it’s easy and Pete feels like she could breathe after. There’s no adrenaline rush, no police sirens in her brain that were ringing. It was only Trick and the warmth of her underneath the skin of Pete’s fingertips. This is what their first kiss should have felt like.

They pull away, and Trick says, gesturing between herself and Pete, “I thought I lost this last Saturday. I thought I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t.” Pete assures her honestly. “Let’s go sneak out the fire escape and make out like we were supposed to.”

When they stumble home, Pete thinks how Trick’s smile lights up the way home to her apartment better than the streetlights did.

 

 

Not much making out happens, but Pete thinks that there would be time for that in the future.

They’re lying in Pete’s bed, the twin mattress too small, but they fit like puzzle pieces. Pete’s neck on Trick’s shoulder, their thighs slotting into each other, Trick’s hand on Pete’s back; it’s like they’ve been doing this for years. If they were a puzzle, Pete thinks, they’d be one of those thousand piece puzzles of paintings with those small details that are nearly impossible to finish; you wouldn’t know where Pete began and Trick ended.

“I know we’re going too fast,” Trick says quietly, “I’m scared of how I feel for you.”

“Me too” Pete replied honestly, because honesty was good and Pete wanted to be good now. “I’m scared that this is going to be a crush that got out of hand and I’ll grow tired of you.”

Trick peers down and she looks scared, her lips in a lopsided frown and her blue eyes cloudy. “So you don’t want to try?” she asks in a voice that Pete hopes she’ll never hear again.

“I’m not saying that. I’m just.” Pete sighs, carding her fingers soothingly through Trick’s strawberry blonde hair. “I want this to work out. I’m not really the best at this relationship thing. It’s just what happens. I grow tired or they grow tired and we just fall apart.”

Pete doesn’t talk about the ones that exploded right in their faces, the ones where it felt like the whole room was in flames whenever she argued, spitting gasoline and throwing up lit matches to make it worse. How she had spent weeks only sleeping for thirty minutes, staring at the window outside, listening to the cars roar outside and wonder if she would die if she jumped off. The heaviness of her eye bags weighing her sight down. When her hands felt heavy because of all the love she was holding but nobody to give it to. But there was another time for that, Pete was never really a long term planner, but she knows that she and Trick will have time to talk about that; time to talk about the monsters under the bed and underneath Pete’s skin, to talk about how Trick was probably born from Pete’s dreams.

“But I wanna try” Pete says her voice way too small so she hides in Trick’s chest and inhales the smell of her sweat and old perfume, “I’ll do anything for you, Trick. Anything you want.”

“Is it stupid that I want to try too?” Trick asks her, and Pete thinks she could hear the smile in her voice. It’s understandable, there’s way too much at stake, but it doesn’t look that big in the grand scheme of things.

“You’re thinking too hard, “ was the only thing Pete says in reply and she hopes that Trick could read her mind and hear her say, _it’s not stupid at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi updates might be affected since uni is kicking my ass more than i thought it would but im still going to try my best to still write since i've outlined the whole fic already. also can i jus say this was a bitch to edit towards the end bc i accidentally sent a portion of this to my psych 117 grp chat instead of our professor's comments so i lost the energy to pay attention to it bc i was so embarrassed djfjdfjkvdjfvjk call me a dumbass in the comments and make me feel better by leaving some kudos!!! thank u if you're reading this and i hope i'll see u guys nxt saturday!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi just a little heads up, minor warnings for sexual violence around the end (not between pete and patrick) also pete's mental health issues may be central to the story after this chapter.

Pete dreams of Trick again, but not when she’s asleep; it’s just that the next few days feel like a dream. Pete feels like she’s dreaming when her eyes are open and when they’re closed. Pete can only measure hours from the last time she felt Trick’s lips and warmth on her own, only remembers what it’s like to feel anything when Trick slips her tongue in her mouth or bites too hard, Pete only remembers to breathe only when Trick exhales.

Pete lives in an eternal summer around Trick where Pete separates days from what she and Trick had done. Saturday— stealing flowers off from someone’s lawn on the two am walk to Trick’s dorm room after the Talk On Pete’s Bed (with capital letters like they were the stars of the newest indie romance showing in the theatre downtown). Sunday— they spent the whole day under Pete’s covers and ate cereal for dinner. Monday— they made out behind the bleachers after practice until Pete thinks that her body has evolved past needing oxygen; her lungs having somehow managed to filter Trick’s cigarette air into something her bloodstream can use. Tuesday— they fall asleep on each other’s shoulders on the bus ride home and miss their stop, and are forced to take the train to Trick’s dorm room, linking their pinkies together like high schoolers; every time the train would abruptly stop, Trick would steady Pete with a hand on her waist and Pete felt the skin there rise with goosebumps.

Pete, in a way, begins to be made of the same things as Trick; Pete’s sheets begin to smell like Trick’s perfume, her pillowcase stained by Trick’s lipgloss, for a day she had borrowed Trick’s t-shirt and felt what Trick was made up of through the threads. Pete might be beginning to be like Trick, but she knows she can never be like her, can never quite shine like her, but that’s okay with Pete; she never allowed herself to dream this far anyway.

Pete’s scared that they’re going too fast, that they were a car running on three times the speed limit and the turn was shorter than either of them were expecting, but if they were in a car, Pete was falling in love with Trick in the backseat of it, eyes not on the road, but on the highway of Trick’s thighs and the expanse of her skin, Trick’s eyes like headlights that Pete knows she’d crash into every time. Pete can’t bring herself to care.

Tuesday night Pete wishes on the star, even though it’s pretty redundant at that point— how could she possibly ask for more?

(She does it anyway)

Wednesday morning, Pete wakes up with Trick’s right leg draped over her hip and digging into the small of her back. The sunrise filters through the curtains that Trick claims to have actually remembered to wash last Monday. Trick breathes hot air into Pete’s cheek and when Pete moves even just a bit, Trick squirms her way into Pete’s chest instead, trying to find a home in the space between Pete’s ribcage and heart. Something inside Pete breaks because it all feels wrong, weird and disorienting in the way that somebody had moved all the furniture an inch to the right or as if Pete was viewing the world through a fishbowl; the freckles on Trick’s face looked scrawled on, Trick’s chipped nail polish looked duller than Pete remembered, and Trick’s breathing sounded like it was muffled by the cotton. Pete holds her breath and wonders why it doesn’t feel enough. Going to sleep and seeing the same person there when you wake up was supposed to feel like something, it was supposed to be special and it was supposed to be _enough_. But Pete just feels empty.

It was nothing but it wasn’t absence; Pete felt hollow. It was a physical nothingness, like there was a black hole inside of her chest that sucked in any emotion that Pete tried to feel. Pete pinches her forearm, holding her skin tightly between her index finger and thumb until it turned into a rosy pink, the only sensation Pete could feel were aches on her temples and a tightness in her shoulders. That’s when Pete knew; it was one of those days. Pete closes her eyes and tries to sleep again.

When she opens her eyes, Trick is gone. If this happened yesterday, Pete would know that the rational reason for Trick’s disappearance was because she had class at this time. But it was today, Wednesday noon, and Pete wasn’t feeling very reasonable. Pete clutches Trick’s pillow and tries to inhale her smell, a safety blanket that was supposed to be familiar, but all it smelled like was honey shampoo that everyone used.

Pete didn’t realize that she was sobbing until she was gasping for breath and felt the room go blurry from the stinging tears in her eyes. Pete doesn’t know how long she laid there, clutching Trick’s pillow until it began to smell of Pete’s salty tears and sweat. There was a mild ache on her arm, like tiny spiders were crawling up and down her skin, settling deep into her bones. When Pete looks down, she sees tiny half moon crescents from when she had dug her nails in too hard. Pete falls asleep again.

The third time Pete opens her eyes, the room is dark. From behind the thin walls of Trick’s dorm, Pete hears the distinct sound of keys jangling and a soft voice swearing as the keys fell to the floor. Pete shuts her eyes tightly and begs herself to fall back asleep, unable to muster enough energy to face Trick like this. Pete worms her way into a blanket when she hears the door open.

Pete notes the light flicker on and the awkward silence that lasted for half a second before Trick spoke, “Pete?” Trick asks in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Pete doesn’t respond, her body coiled tightly, and hopes that Trick would think she was asleep. Pete hears the sound of Trick slowly walking towards her until she sees Trick’s form from beneath the blanket kneeling next to the bed, directly in front of Pete.

“When you missed practice, I thought you would be in your apartment.” Trick says mildly. Pete doesn’t understand the connection between the two sentences, can’t find the piece that fits them together into something she could understand. Pete can’t think too hard in this state, she’s too busy trying to remember to inhale and exhale.

“What if I want to quit the team?” Pete snaps a little, but she wasn’t angry. Her voice is rough and shredded like she’s been screaming. Pete closes her right hand over her throat and tries to feel if there was physical proof that she was losing her mind; there were no daggers lodged in there, it felt like her normal smooth skin.

“Did something happen?” Trick asks in alarm and the shadow of her hand moves to remove the blanket, but Pete stubbornly holds it tighter.

“Pete, did I do something?”

“Just don’t.”

“Pete, what the fuck.” Trick says incredulously. “This is my room—have you—did you even leave the bed at all?”

“I said don’t.”

Trick pulls off the blanket and Pete closes her eyes at the blinding light and mostly so that she wont see Trick. “Dude what the fuck, I said don’t, leave me the fuck alone.” Pete shouts, louder than she wanted to, her hearing still sounds fuzzy and far away. For a second, Pete basks in the blackness and thinks this is what it would be like to die; this specific peacefulness. When Pete opens her eyes, Trick is looking at her like she didn’t know who Pete was.

Tick looks furious; her eyebrows knitted downward in the way they did when someone was fucking up in practice or when she couldn’t get a routine right; face red, and bottom lip quivering in anger. It’s scary, but Pete wants this, Pete wants Trick to break and disappoint her just like what her brain has been telling her; gut feelings, hesitations before touching Trick, moving away during the train rides when they got too close. Some part of Pete knew it, that this wasn’t a road trip to the seaside with a good soundtrack, it was a car crash into the nearest concrete wall.

“What the fuck,” Trick repeats slowly, like she still can’t believe what’s happening. “Dude, you’re fucking screaming at me and this is my fucking room. I don’t even know what I did! Get the fuck out.”

At first, Pete thinks Trick isn’t serious, but Trick’s jaw was clenched and there was still that burning look in her eyes that was familiar, but different, it was painful; this time Trick wasn’t about to push her body against Pete and make out against a wall. Pete pushes the blankets off her and runs for the door, shoving Trick out of the way when Trick tries to hold her back. Trick calls out, just before Pete steps out, “Call me when you stop acting crazy and fucked up.”

Pete wants to run home, wants to take it on foot and lose herself in her head until she cant get back out. But Pete is tired, these moods always draining out the energy out of her until she’s nothing but an empty husk for people to gawk and point out, a hole where a girl should be. Pete wants to do something but all she can muster is to collapse on the front steps of Trick’s apartment and call Joe to pick her up.

When Joe doesn’t pick up after the fourth try, Pete begins to cry; not the soul aching cries that she really wants to, she just cries quietly, hot tears streaming down her face that she can’t seem to stop. She digs the heels of her hands into her eye sockets until she sees lights that make her ache. Pete tries to slow down her breathing, but it only chokes her up even more and soon she’s gasping for air; there’s a heavy weight on her chest and something stuck in her throat, like something was slowly eating up her insides. Pete scratches her chest, trying to claw it out of her.

Pete’s not alone for long, or maybe it had been hours, time doesn’t exist when Pete’s having an episode. Someone steps into the streetlight’s glow, someone vaguely familiar. Pete’s brain supplies fuzzy flashbacks of the backseat of a car and fingers up her cheerleading skirt. Pete begins to remember more after that; rough hands all over her body, her throat raw, dark hickies that she had to hide in practice the next day. Pete doesn’t realize he’s talking until he his fingers hold up her chin to look into her eyes, still dazed out and barely able to comprehend the green swimming in them.

“Pete”, he says it like a question that he already knows the answer to, “what are you doing out so late? Is that—are you crying?”

Pete doesn’t answer and he continues casually, “My place is pretty near if you want, I can take care of you until you get home.” The lights flicker and for a second the streetlights shine like a halo against the back of his head.

“I just need a ride home.” Pete sniffles.

Pete doesn’t remember what he said or if he said anything, but she stands up and remembers the walk to his car, a dull feeling her stomach. She doesn’t say anything when she sits on the passenger seat and he rests his hand on her upper thigh, Pete cant bring herself to feel grateful she was wearing jeans.

The boy, Pete can’t fucking remember his name, they’re all like this anyway, keeps it there the short drive to Pete’s apartment. He doesn’t play music, instead the car is filled with his low voice that Pete doesn’t understand and what Pete thinks are distinctly her sniffles. At the stoplight before her apartment, the boy moves his fingers higher, between her legs, and presses there.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.” He whispers, as he slows down to park into a street corner two blocks away from Pete’s apartment. Pete looks out the window and sees the brick wall where she had kissed Trick in the other night, threatening to vandalize the whole storefront with their names; it seemed so far away now.

When his fingers rise to the top of Pete's jeans to get her attention, Pete turns to look back at him. His eyes were glowing dark and he had a small smile on his face, the darkness helping in softening his features into something Pete could swallow. Somewhere inside, Pete wants to tell him that sex and everything is at the back of her mind when she’s like this, that she’s physically incapable right now, but instead what comes out her mouth is, “All for you, baby.”

It feels like something straight out of a movie script, Pete doesn’t feel herself moving closer, but she sees her legs rise up the seat and straddle the guy. Pete can’t feel the steering wheel digging into her back or the heat of the boy underneath her, Pete can’t stop her hands from unzipping his jeans, can only watch and scream in her head for her hands to stop, but she knows she should at least feel something or at least know she shouldn’t be doing this and stop herself.

“You’re such a bitch all the time,” the guy continues, pulling Pete forward so her arm was between her chest and his chest in an awkward angle. “but I know cold bitches like you want this.”

“No kissing,” Pete is able to say when he leans in. His face flickers in anger and he raises his arm. For a split second, Pete sees it, what's going to happen next; she’s thrown in a dark alley and she’s bleeding and broken boned and she’s just going to lay like that until someone notices, _if_ someone will notice that she was gone, it's happened to some girls in their university. Instinctively, Pete punches him first before he could, heart beating hard against her chest, as if it suddenly remembered it was supposed to.

It was a pretty good punch, one direct hit into his eye, and another weaker but quicker one to his throat. Pete fumbles with the car door and bites down hard when the guy recovers and tries to grab her wrist. Pete manages to open the door and fall into the street, the guy is still swearing at her as he clutches his hand in the other. He’s rising out the car when Pete crawls into a standing position and runs.

It feels like Pete has blacked out, all except for her hands and the parts of skin that the guy had touched, those parts, Pete was acutely aware of every sensation her body was feeling; those parts were burning. Pete can’t remember anything except for her gasping for breath between quick inhales and stuttered, shallow sobs. When Pete reaches the 7/11 near their apartment, she risks a glance at her back when she hasn’t heard footsteps in a while. There’s nobody there, but Pete doesn’t stop running. She doesn’t even stop when she gets to her apartment, doesn’t stop when she runs up the stairs instead of the elevator, doesn’t stop until she’s locked her apartment door behind her.

Pete rests her back on the door, breathing quietly. The thundering in her chest slows down and her brain quiets down again. Pete wants to cry, wants to feel afraid and used, wants to feel grateful that she was able to run away, but she still can’t feel anything. She slides down the door, looking into the darkness of the apartment, Joe remembering for once to turn off all the lights in the living room before going to sleep.

Pete just stares until the sun rises, unmoving from her spot in the door, uncrying, still quiet. Pete doesn’t think the entire time, her brain like quiet television static.

Pete blinks and when she opens her eyes, she’s in her bedroom, staring at her ceiling. Pete doesn’t know how she got there and what time it was; Pete doesn’t really care. Pete counts the cracks in her ceiling and then she begins to count the creases in her walls when she’s done. At some point, Pete’s first actual thought since yesterday crosses her mind, that maybe this had all been a dream. Pete closes her eyes, rests them for more than a blink, tries to will herself to wake up from this nightmare, maybe last night didn’t happen, maybe the last twenty-one years didn’t happen either, maybe Pete would wake up as a baby, and everything had been one long dream.

Pete opens her eyes slowly, like she was still giving the world another chance, but she just sees the same cracks on the ceiling, the same creases on the walls, the same hands from last night.

Pete lets the thought go and returns to not thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo idk if u guys noticed but this chapter was a week late lol sorry about that, it's that time of the semester where my time is spent studying or getting drunk so i don't have as much time as before. im still serious about finishing this though (i updated the fic to have 15 chapters if u noticed which is a p good estimate since i have the whole thing planned out and so ill actually finish it lol). anyway sorry for the delay, i might update within the week before saturday to make up for it but i have two exams on tuesday lol so who knows. thank you so much if you're still reading!! comments and kudos would b v appreciated bc tbh idk if anyone is reading this sknskjnd


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: off-screen suicide, mentions of suicide, and bad mental health in this chapter; stay safe !
> 
> sorry it's been forever since i've updated lol uni got really hectic and i didn't know what to do with this story for a while. a skeleton of this has been stuck in my google docs for the past two months when i finally, properly wrote and edited it a few days ago and i realized how much i missed writing this. im going to try to update more now since im on break. please leave some kudos and some comments if u can they add years to my life, thank you for reading, and see you all soon (hopefully)

What feels like the next morning, Pete gets an email from the university but doesn’t pay attention to it. Among a number of texts that were increasing in hostility and desperation from Pete’s groupmates in various classes who have probably deleted her name from all their papers, she notes that there are over five missed calls from Joe and double the amount from Trick. Seeing Trick’s name on her phone, the last missed call being two hours ago, makes something in Pete twitch, like the thing where her heart is supposed to be started beating just a little bit faster. Pete feels disgusted with herself, a rush of repulsion that travels down her whole body, from the top of her head to her toes, that she’s relishing in this attention.

Pete swipes on her phone to clear all the notifications but her eyes catch on the email from the university again; it shouldn’t have been noticeable, it was just a tiny blue icon of an envelope with a red number one on the left corner, but Pete was drawn to it. When Pete taps it, she’s expecting an email from the Political Science department informing her that she’s maxed out all of her cuts and a request for her to withdraw for the semester, but instead Pete was met with an emergency announcement from the university.

Pete felt the hairs on her neck rise as she read the letter from the dean; it was short and clinical, straight to the point, with perfunctory sympathy taped at the end of the letter that was already laced with insincerity. There had been a suicide in the university dorms, some guy Pete’s never even met was found dead in his bedroom; the reasons of how and why were left unanswered and it made it worse for Pete.

Because Pete can picture the scene so clearly, but instead of the unfamiliar boy, it was her. Pete can see it: she’s spread out on her bed, looking like she was asleep, a bottle of Ativan next to her. It’s so dramatic in her head, it looks like every other indie movie made for sad girls like her directed by Sofia Coppola, where she was bleeding glitter and glowing neon pink, the only things missing were the fairy lights and kitsch furniture from Urban Outfitters. Pete thinks it’s worthy of a movie score— like Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley. Pete loves biblical imagery and the drama of it all.

Right now, it’s not that Pete wants to kill herself, she just wanted to die. It’s not the same as thinking about sleeping in a car, swallowing some pills, or jumping off windows— Pete just wanted to die, it didn’t matter how. There’s this emptiness in Pete; she can’t hear herself breathing, she can’t feel the beat of heart against her chest, she can’t feel the blood rushing in her veins. Pete was empty, but it’s calm, there are no hysterical tears or anything.

Just as Pete finished reading the email, Joe knocks on Pete’s bedroom door. Pete listens to it, _thunk, thunk, thunk,_ and then a louder, cracking _thunk_ as Pete throws her phone at it, wishing she could be the door or the phone and just feel something. Pete hears Joe’s sharp intake of breath and then the sound of footsteps walking away.

Pete feels her hands go numb, the sensation of tiny ants crawling up and down, the feeling of tv static underneath her skin. This might be the first thing Pete’s felt this morning. Pete wraps her blanket around her until she could pretend they were arms holding her there and buries her face in her pillow. Pete closes her eyes and breathes quietly, in her head it’s a never ending looping record of _this is what it feels like to be dead_.

 

 

 

Pete’s lost in her bedroom.

In Pete’s bedroom, there is no Pete; there’s only what could be a girl, a shape of her, a body that has a Pete-shaped hole so big that Pete might as well not exist, a lump of dirty clothes that she’s been wearing since that night, tangled hair and dirty nails and breath that smelled stale. In her bedroom, there’s no sound except for Pete’s own heartbeat; Joe stopped trying to knock and come in after the first attempt (and Pete thinks that sucks, because two out of three wouldn’t have been bad). In her bedroom, there’s no such thing as days, hours, minutes, seconds; there’s only Pete’s shallow breathing, sometimes stopping and getting caught in her chest when she forgets to (or maybe she does it on purpose, maybe she does want to die for real this time). In her bedroom, there’s no sun, there’s no moon, the blinds have been drawn for who knows how long. There’s still a star though, for a few seconds, Pete allows herself to peek out and wish on the star, the same wish as yesterday, as last week, last month, last year.

Pete doesn’t know why she keeps wishing.

Pete could almost picture it, a sleep that lasts forever. She closes her eyes again.

When she opens her eyes it’s because there’s a knock coming from her door, quiet but insistent. Pete stumbles out of bed, ready to apologize to Joe or swear at Joe until she moves out; the chance that either may happen was fifty-fifty, and Joe and Pete are only going to find out when Pete opens the door, some kind of sick magic eight-ball controlling Pete’s moods.

When it does happen, the door swinging to reveal whoever is on the other side, words have already risen up Pete’s throat but they die in her mouth. What happens instead is Pete stays quiet and takes a step back so she could look at Trick properly. Standing outside her bedroom door is Trick, in a disheveled denim jacket, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks, her eyes rimmed red, and spots of an acne breakout on her face. Trick’s hair was drenched, rain drops dripping from the ends of her hair to her shirt, and her black converse has left a trail of mud all over the floor (Pete thinks numbly that Joe was going to be pissed when she gets home). This is the ugliest Trick has ever looked in front of Pete, and the sight makes Pete fall in love with her a little more. “Can we—” Trick’s voice cracks and she shuts her eyes. “Can I just hold you first?”

Pete still doesn’t answer, but she takes Trick’s hand and brings them to her bed. When they’re both lying down, Pete leans into the comfort and warmth of Trick’s chest despite the dampness. Pete finds a rhythm in the way Trick’s heart was beating steadily and she writes words for a song that doesn’t exist. Pete listens to Trick’s heartbeat like she was in high school again, listening to her favorite song of the month on her walkman on the bus ride home.

“Did you see the news?” Pete asks Trick after a while, after she’s written a whole album’s worth of lyrics in her head revolving around a denim blue jacket and eyes in the same shade; a true blue sort of magic in the way Trick’s eyes always seemed to never be the same color, blue on sad days like this, brown in the bedroom, green when she watches Pete dance, gold when she sings.

“Is it shitty that it’s the only reason why I’m here?” Trick asks quietly into the salty skin of Pete’s neck. “I was scared that you…” Trick lets the rest of the sentence fall and hang in the air.

Trick shifts nearer and holds Pete closer, she inhales deeply, as if Pete smelled like home instead of unwashed girl. Trick’s arms are tight against the sides of Pete’s head and it couldn’t have been comfortable for her, the angle and the smell, but Trick holds her close anyway. Pete feels her body settle and quiet like floorboards and old plumbing; her body a house for Trick to make a home in.

Pete breathes slow, like an exhale that she’s been holding in her chest since the last time she saw Trick. “Yeah, it is.”

Trick is quick and sincere to reply, “I’m sorry.” she whispers, and she repeats it over and over until the air is vibrating with the sound of her apologies. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone like that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Pete agrees, but not unkindly, just honestly. “But it’s okay, not like okay-okay, but I— we’ll be okay.” Pete mumbles into Trick’s neck. “I don’t know if I can survive it if you do it again though.”

“I don’t plan on breaking your heart anytime soon.”

“Don’t joke.” Pete says, a little hurt, she pulls back a little to meet Trick’s eyes but her fists grow tighter around Trick’s arms; it was the only physical way she could convey the push and pull in her chest right now, the only way Pete can articulate the voice in her head telling Trick to run away, but the feeling in her hands that wanted to hold Trick some more.

Trick looks straight into her eyes, her gaze serious and heavy. Trick slowly brings Pete closer back into her chest, a feeling that was like a coming home, “I wasn’t.” was all she said.

For a while it’s just Trick’s quiet breathing, still musical, sounding like she was humming a song, the sound isn’t enough to fill the room and Pete feels like there are parts of her that are spilling out, there’s a need inside of her to fill the room with something, to feel like she was actually there.

“Pete, you can’t stay like this. You need to get better.” Trick murmurs, a little hesitantly, her voice smaller, like she was drawing back into herself, afraid how Pete would react. “Even if you don’t believe it right now, you need to step out of here.”

“I don’t want to leave, I hear the rain on my window every night. It feels like there’s a hurricane all the time.” Pete whines quietly, hiding her face in the corner of Trick’s shoulder and neck. “It’s supposed to be sunny right now.”

Trick is quiet, like she understands how Pete is feeling right now, like she could hear what Pete was trying to say underneath the stupid reason. Trick brings herself closer, Pete doesn’t know how it was still possible that there was still space between them, maybe she and Trick were both made of magic,  “Then we don’t have to think about the outside now.”

 

 

 

They’re in the bathtub and Trick is massaging shampoo into Pete’s hair, still wearing a shirt and lavender cotton underwear which leaves Pete feeling even more naked. They haven’t spoken, there’s this monster in Pete squirming up her throat, making it difficult to speak, it was embarrassment and shame that was holding her tongue. Trick stares at the fading bruise on Pete’s wrist from the other night from when it was grabbed too hard.

“Sometimes, people use me and then they think I’m mine for them to keep.” Pete says softly as explanation.

Trick’s eyes water up and Pete senses she’s about to say sorry again so Pete interrupts her, Pete looks into Trick’s eyes, to make sure she was listening when Pete says, “I am so so scared of you.”

Trick looks surprised, blue eyes wide and her pink mouth in a small o, there’s a look of hurt and shame in them that Pete’s trying to translate. “Why?”

“I’m scared that my emotions are just going crazy—”

“Pete,” Trick interrupts gently. “You’re not. It’s just— I don’t care, okay? I think you’re okay. It’s okay, I want to make sure that you know that you’re not. I shouldn’t have ever called you that— I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m just scared that whatever I’m feeling is just a side-effect of the drugs— of my brain, because my feelings are always multiplied by a hundred.”

Trick rinses Pete’s hair before replying, leaving Pete to think about the heavy gap in the air. It sounds like an argument that Pete’s been repeating; apology after apology, metaphor after metaphor about her feelings spilling out. It was getting tiring, it was getting boring, but Pete still can’t stop. Pete still can’t stop feeling like the more she was unloading out of her baggage, the more Trick’s luggage would be full of Pete’s sadness, and eventually Trick was going to leave, finally getting tired of carrying all Pete’s been feeling.

“I don’t care about love if that’s what you’re feeling, Pete,” Trick says, drawing Pete out of her thoughts, saying the big L-word. “I like how you make me feel and how I make you feel. I like making you feel whatever you feel. I like how much you feel. Love is such a small feeling to what I feel about you, don’t you think we’re more than that? That what we’re feeling for each other is more than some human emotion caused by chemicals and neurotransmitters?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m not special, I’m just Pete.”

“That’s exactly it.” Trick says, like she knows everything in the universe, knows how many stars there are, knew that Pete needed saving exactly tonight, and knew how this story was going to end.

Trick begins to soap Pete’s body, holding her in a way that was careful, but not like she was afraid Pete would break, but like she knew the exhaustion that Pete was feeling, knew how Pete’s been used and left feeling cracked like the porcelain tiles on her bathroom. Pete didn’t think of herself as broken, she was just a little worn down.

“I can hear you thinking.” Trick says as she tickles the sensitive skin under Pete’s ears, making Pete laugh.

“You can’t read my mind can you?” Pete asks wearily but she’s smiling and her chest feels a little lighter. This is the first lighthearted exchange they’ve had since Trick got here and there’s something about it that makes her insides feel calm, it was a better kind of quiet, like Sunday morning breakfast and morning light streaming on an unmade bed; it was a lot like content, Pete didn’t think it was that easy to feel something like that again. This shared intimacy meant more than crying on Trick’s shoulder somehow.

“No, but I think you should be thinking of me instead of whatever dark thoughts in there.” Trick answers, knocking lightly on Pete’s temples with a small smile on her lips. It’s a real Trick smile, her nose scrunched up and her eyes crinkled, Pete wants to print a picture from the memory of it and keep it in a locket or wallet; a reminder.

“You’re corny.” Pete informs her and shifts closer to Trick in the too small tub, water overflows and spills out of the tub, Pete knows that feeling a lot but she’s not thinking about that now.

“Can I kiss you?” Pete asks.

Trick studies her and Pete finds comfort in it; she knows that look, it’s the same way Trick used to look at her when they would rehearse for a tournament, it’s the same way Pete used to catch Trick editing her music compositions in the library; it’s this look of concentration, and care, and not half-assing anything  ever. “Only if you want to.” she whispers, close enough for Pete to taste.

Pete closes the distance between them just barely after Trick finished speaking, and kisses Trick like there had been oceans separating them instead of bathwater and their own sadness; Pete’s recycled sadness and Trick’s heavy guilt.

When they pull away, Trick is quiet again, just staring at Pete. Pete’s heart is still beating, blood rushing to her ears, drowning out everything that wasn’t Trick. “I can’t believe I still deserve you.” was all Trick could say, and if Trick wanted to pretend the sparkle in her eyes came from the lights or from soap in her eye, then Pete won’t call her out on it. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back.”

Pete holds Trick in her arms and lays them gently on the bathtub’s curve, Pete’s back to the porcelain while Trick’s back rests on Pete’s chest. Pete doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know how to explain that they both do, doesn’t know how to explain that she knows that feeling too. But Pete knows that Trick likes it when Pete cards her fingers through her hair, knows that Trick likes the feeling of Pete humming, the vibrations deep in her chest; Pete knows that this can be enough for now.

 

 

They leave the bath soon after that, when the wrinkles on their skin were threatening to be permanently etched. The cold water of the bathwater and the cold air that hits Pete when she stands up just feels cold, nothing more than that, no clinging depression hanging on to her. Trick looks away when Pete wears her clothes, a warm blush on the back of her neck that Pete teases her about. It almost feels normal.

Now Pete’s sitting on the kitchen floor with Trick sitting cross legged across from her. The kitchen is dark, only illuminated by the refrigerator light because Pete can’t handle the bright fluorescent lights right now. Trick’s face is lit up in a blue that makes her look alien, makes her look like she wasn’t from here. If Pete turns her head a little bit, she can almost see a light emanating from beneath Trick’s skin.

Pete eats chicken from a Chinese takeout box with her hands, it doesn’t taste like much and it’s painful to swallow, but Trick is watching her and Pete didn’t want to let her down. Pete doesn’t feel like talking much now, throat worn tired like she’s forgotten to speak, so Trick fills the air with what’s been happening the past week Pete’s been absent; telling her of the drama between the girls in the squad, she sings to Pete the new composition she was planning on submitting for her music theory class, she demonstrates this step she wanted to incorporate in their routine and would want Pete to try to learn even though Pete should probably be kicked out of the team at this point. It’s all these simple things that one day could just be background noise, but right now, Pete clings on to every word Trick says, like she’s already forgot what the world was like outside of her bedroom.

When Trick’s ran out of stories and songs to sing to Pete and they’re cleaning up the takeout boxes, Pete asks Trick the question she’s been wanting to ask since she got here. “Did you know him? The guy who died?”

The silence hangs in the air as Trick thinks carefully. Pete watches her arrange the extra chopsticks into a line and fold the napkins into a pile. Trick drops her head, unable to look at Pete. “No, I just got scared that it might be you.” Trick answered, serious honesty in her voice. “Like, I just saw him as you, like alone in your bedroom, and you weren’t answering my calls and instead of being angry, I was just afraid that I already lost you before I got to understand how.”

Trick raises her eyes, the blue in them illuminated by the refrigerator light was a color Pete’s never seen before. “I’m not saying this to make you say sorry or to guilt trip you— I realize this isn’t about me, or rather, this is about me hurting you.”

It takes Pete a while to reply, there’s this rush of feelings in her again, a tsunami that’s making it difficult for her to pick apart, so she starts with what _she’s_ feeling, not what her brain or heart were telling her, it’s just Pete when she finally speaks up. “I’m scared to end up like that. I— I want to die, but I don’t really want to, it’s scary. I’m scared to die, Trick.”

It’s honest and it’s the truth; it’s just Pete with no filter or guidance from inside her. Pete feels like she’s said too much, that there’s a reason why her mouth shouldn’t move as fast as her heart or head, but then all the anxiety slowly disappears when Trick hums in reply.

Trick takes hold of her hand and moves it around in her loose fist, like she was trying to figure out Pete through the roads of her palm, trying to find a map in the back of Pete’s hand. Pete thinks Trick isn’t going to say anything and Pete would have been okay with that but Trick opens her mouth and Pete thinks it’s something she didn’t know she needed to hear until Trick had said it, implanting this seed in her mind that she’s always going to want to hear Trick say it, record it into cassette and listen to it on loop like a lullaby on nights where she can’t sleep.

“Girls like you can’t die just like that, Pete.” Trick says. “Girls like you don’t die.”

 

 

They’re lying on Pete’s bed now, they stripped off the dirty sheets only to find out that there were no clean ones to replace them with so they’re just lying on a bare mattress. It feels appropriate, Pete feels naked even though she’s dressed in sweats and a hoodie.

“I don’t know how you can still see me as good, you keep explaining it but I just don’t understand— I’m still sad now and I’m still crazy. I thought you being here would fix me.” It’s dark now and Pete can’t help the tears that spring into her eyes when she holds Trick close, unable to believe that this is her life and scared that she’ll close her eyes and wake up from this dream. “And I’ve been used,” Pete sniffles, voice scratchy as she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the tears. “I’ve been around the block, maybe the whole street, and sometimes I don’t even know who Pete Wentz is because everyone’s taken so much of me.”

Trick gently holds Pete’s wrists away and wipes her tears for her before replying, quietly, just so that it was just for them to hear. “Yeah, you might not know who she is, I don’t know who she fully is either, but it doesn’t matter. The Pete I know is made of gold, even though she thinks her insides are made of copper. She has the softest heart but with the hardest rib cage protecting it. If I could, I’d find every single person who ever hurt you and stop the hurt from ever happening, starting with the asshole from last week when I kicked you out— starting with me for doing that to you.”

Pete hushes Trick during the last part but Trick is insistent. Pete feels a bone-weary tired when she lays on her back to stare at the ceiling. The tear tracks are drying sticky on her cheeks and her lungs are letting out rickety, fragile, breaths.  “I wish I could just redo everything. If this were a different universe, I’d be better, I wouldn’t be sick.” Pete tells the plastic, stick-on stars.

“I’d still want you in whatever universe; in every universe, I’m always going to want you.” was all Trick says.

Maybe Pete was always going to be like this, this kind of too-depressed, this kind of too-manic; bipolar. Maybe it's deeply embedded in her, somewhere deeper than her skin and something more ancient than the blood rushing through her veins. Pete was still sad and she might always be like this, but the thought of Trick, not as a medicine, but just as someone who will always be there for her, like the star she wishes on every night, is a comforting thought that reminds Pete of how small she is in the universe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i finally updated this jndskjndksjd  
> also tw for minor homophobia and homophobic slurs (dyke was used once)

“Trick,” Pete whispers into the dark. “I had the weirdest dream.”

Trick groans and Pete can’t help but smile when Trick turns to lie on her other side to face Pete. Trick is rubbing the sleep from her eyes and mumbling something under her breath, not something for Pete to hear, but Pete leans in to bite on Trick’s exposed collarbone to apologize anyway. The taste of Trick’s skin, of sweat and something sweet, something like night time magic, sticks to the tip of Pete’s tongue, but it disappears just as she was about to connect the taste to a feeling to a language she can understand.

When Trick opens her eyes they're still blue, her eyes a kind of mood ring that only told Pete’s emotions; but this was a better blue than it was last night, this blue was a clear sky and making out underneath it, with maybe just a hint of sadness. One look at Trick and Pete’s already forgotten the dream, the dream disappearing just like how she lost the taste of Trick; losing it to wakefulness and reality where dreams die when Pete opens her eyes and girls like Trick just taste like skin.

“You’re staring, what is it?” Trick grumbles, her eyes small slits as she peers at Pete.

“Sometimes when I look at you,” Pete says softly, searching desperately to find the words for the feelings in her chest before it goes away too. “it’s like we’ve already lived through this life, you know? Like I know you from a past life or something.”

It’s cheesy and stupid, and something Pete probably heard on the radio, but it’s a true feeling and Trick’s face lights up and she kisses Pete until they suffocate. Trick makes a delighted sound from deep within her throat, a high pitched hum whose vibrations Pete could feel underneath her palm. Trick is still holding Pete’s face, gently thumbing her jaw, when she swings her legs across Pete’s waist to roll on top of Pete, grinding slowly against her. Pete breaks away to duck her head and bite gently on Trick’s neck, breathing hard against her skin; Trick sighs when Pete inhales deeply, their lungs working with each other. They’ve haven’t gone all the way yet, Pete would want to, she’s sure Trick would want to, but not now, not when Pete is still a little soft around the edges.

“Okay, okay, slow down, baby.” Trick gasps like she’s read Pete’s mind, scrambling away from Pete when Pete’s fingers begin to find their way underneath Trick’s shirt. Trick firmly grips Pete’s wrists on top of Pete’s head and gazes at her warningly, like if Pete’s arms were free, Pete would just pull her back in and Trick wasn’t strong enough to fight back a second time. Trick was probably right, but Pete is still too punch-drunk-dizzy from the pet name, her thoughts not connecting fast enough to move her arms so it was useless. “Time to get ready for class.”

“You started it.” Pete answers back, but there’s no bite behind her words, only a playful smile that Trick returns. Trick’s resting on Pete’s legs now, half of her hair slipping out of her stretched out ponytail, dried drool on her cheeks, eyes puffy from sleep; even like this Trick still looks like the white picket fence of Pete’s dreams.

“Whatever.” Trick replies a heartbeat too late, a soft look in her eyes; Pete probably has the same look on her face too, probably always had with Trick. They’re silent some more, just staring at each other, like so much has changed after one night, like maybe Trick grew some more freckles or Pete’s eyes had changed to a deeper shade of brown, maybe there could be no reason for it too, maybe some part of Pete is still scared that she could lose Trick somehow; stupid brain and its stupid thoughts.

“C’mon, uni, the thing you abandoned for a week.” Trick says, interrupting the silence. “We can shower together if that will encourage you.”

Pete sits up fast, warmth and blood travelling downwards, “Really?”

“No.” Trick laughs and rolls off Pete, off the bed, to the floor, barely showing any pain when her back hits it. Trick is giggling, her t-shirt riding up her stomach as she laughs hard, not caring how she looks right now.

“You’re very funny.” Pete says darkly as she steps above Trick who still hasn’t stopped laughing. “I’ll shower first since you’re so busy there.”

 

 

Pete’s first class in a week was much more uninteresting than she thought it would be since less than half of the class was present, removing the blame and anger her History professor usually reserved for absentees like Pete unto those who weren't there. Pete’s professor, a middle aged man who only existed to read from a hundred slide powerpoint in size 9 Times New Roman for an hour and a half and fill Pete’s papers with red ink, was known for dramatics and melodrama; Pete had been expecting an apocalypse of him singling Pete out and grilling her for her absence, certain that Pete had done it purely to spite him, and maybe a misogynistic comment or two if the powerpoint only had eighty slides and he had more time on his wrinkled hands. But he had simply gazed hard at Pete and had made a spitting, sarcastic comment, thanking her for attending his class.

But it wouldn’t have mattered if he did make a dig at Pete, even if Pete were failing his class, this was Pete’s last year. Pete was going to graduate and then leave everyone here, kicking the dust off the floor with her sneakers and not turning back to watch it fly. The thought of that makes Pete wonder if a life after university was really as glamorous as she thinks it’s going to be; Pete’s just going to end up in law school anyway, which is just like university but without cheerleading. And law school won’t have Trick. The thought makes Pete’s stomach churn but she pushes the thought down, not wanting to think about anything like that right now.

And as if even from this far away, Trick really could read Pete’s mind (she didn’t answer Pete’s question last night, Pete isn’t letting this go yet), she texts Pete: _had to kick some girls out the competition lineup, are you still up for it?_

And then another text before Pete could respond, _I’m going to have to kick your ass since you’ve missed a lot of sessions, but I’ll make it up to you, we can have a private one after your last class._

Trick probably didn’t mean for it to sound so dirty, and even if she did, Trick probably mostly meant it as a joke; Trick is very self aware of the effect she has on Pete, never wearing any shorts when they’re in the comfort of each other’s bedroom while they study and the way Trick knows all of Pete’s soft spots and touches her there at the most inappropriate times, like while they’re riding the bus or studying in the library.

Pete texts back, _fuck yeah anything fr u trick_ (Pete wonders if Trick knows how far that statement goes for and if Trick really knew just how much she drives Pete wild).

 

  
  
When Pete gets to the football field, Trick is warming up and doing stretches on her own, unaware of Pete’s presence, Pete sits on the bleachers and just watches her. Trick’s strawberry blonde hair looks like a flame consuming her with the way it thrashes around while she does jumping jacks; Trick’s legs are short and thick for a cheerleader, and they’re still pale even though they spend two hours everyday in the field, underneath the sun, even if it’s been rainy lately; Trick’s sweating already, she’s panting, chest heaving up and down as she takes short gasps of air; Trick spins like she’s on a stadium stage, playing it up to a crowd of a hundred, energized by spotlights and screams that aren’t there.

Pete is thrown back to months ago when all she could ever do was just stare at Trick, Pete can’t believe how much can change in such a short time, it’s only been what? A month? And two of those weeks were spent apart because of their own stupidity. A part of Pete wants this moment to stop, to just freeze, wants the universe to give her this, just a few extra minutes for Pete to hold Trick some more, because next thing Pete knows, she’ll be graduating university, she’ll graduate law school, work a 9-5 job that she’ll hate, she’ll find her first white hair in her unironed curls, Pete will start to wrinkle and crumble. Pete only hopes that Trick will be there the whole time.

Pete’s going to change but she’s never going to get tired of watching Trick like this.

“Hey, creep!” Trick shouts from the field when she notices Pete, and there’s a smile on her face, light and warm, like summer came early. The clouds look a little less gray now. Pete doesn’t know what to say, her mouth is too busy forming a mirroring smile and her brain is too dizzy.

“Let’s practice?” Trick asks, stepping from side to side with her hands clasped behind her, shy, as if Pete could say no to her.

Pete runs downs the stairs while Trick watches her expectantly, the smile still on her face. Pete jumps down the last few steps and swings her legs over the rails; in Pete’s head, music soars and it comes to a climax when she stumbles into Trick’s arms, tripping over her own feet to get to Trick, laughing with her head thrown back to face the sky.

Pete soon learns that Trick’s earlier warning was serious. Trick is relentless at practice today; she taps Pete’s shoulders, arms, and knees to fix her form and makes Pete redo the whole routine if she made a mistake. Trick was also serious about the second part; _no, Pete, like this_ , Trick would whisper near the curve of Pete’s ear and touch Pete’s lower back, right there, on the sensitive spot that makes Pete shiver all over, and Trick grins, and Pete thinks that maybe, yeah, this might be worth it after all.

 

 

Pete collapses on the ground the second Trick announces a short break, Pete's so tired she thinks she might see cartoon stars flying around her head when it hits the grass. Pete's thighs are screaming and her arms are aching, Pete's whole body is overworked to hell, it's been a whole week of regular rehearsals plus her private ones with Trick, and she hasn't felt this exhausted because of something real in a long time. But Pete loves this kind of pain. Cheerleading is the perfect way for Pete to lose herself, Pete is on autopilot, but just enough for her to think about the next foot forward instead of the misstep or a possible one; Pete’s mind too focused on the next kick to worry about other things.

These are Pete’s favorite things in the world: cheerleading and Trick.

Trick giggles and moves Pete’s head to her lap so she can absentmindedly run her fingers through Pete’s hair while Pete rambles about her day. “The cheer competition is next weekend, I can’t believe everyone got sick now.” Pete comments, raising her index finger to poke Trick in the cheek. 

“Yeah,” Trick says but there’s a shift in tone in her voice that Pete doesn’t understand, her voice is quiet and hesitant, almost distant. “but it’s whatever.”

“I’m sure a lot of them aren’t happy about getting kicked out. Do you think they’re really sick?”

Trick shrugs, still weird, and she leans down to kiss Pete briefly, “Why do you want to waste our time talking about them when we can do better things?”

Pete shuts up after that. Not like she can say much anyway with Trick’s lips glued to her own.

When practice is over, Trick drags Pete behind the bleachers to kiss her some more, sweaty skin on sweaty skin, her hands heavy on Pete’s hips, Pete’s up to her hips in dreams right now with the way Trick’s mouth moves against her’s, with the way Trick’s drink her skin in like she were thirsty. Trick slips a hand underneath Pete’s shirt and rests her fingers on the small of her back, and leaves it there, knowing it drives Pete crazy. They kiss hard behind the bleachers until Pete’s knees are weak and until rain breaks through the clouds and begins to pour heavy underneath them.

They’re walking to the bus stop, Trick holding up Pete’s jacket to save them from the rain since both of them had forgotten umbrellas, when Pete asks, “Do you think we have a chance in winning the competition?”

Pete is draining the last few drops of her energy drink as she asks, and Trick watches the juice stick to Pete’s mouth and Pete makes a show of licking it. Trick scowls at her and shoves Pete playfully with a muttered creep under her breath.

“C’mon, answer me, captain.” Pete whines.

“I don’t know,” Trick shrugs. “What do you think?”

“I was feeling confident, I really like the routine this year, but a lot of people suddenly dropping out makes me feel a little less sure.” Pete rambles, picturing them winning the competition and Trick standing there on the stage, glowing gold even without the spotlights but with the biggest smile on her face. Pete imagines Trick kissing her there, in front of all those people, it makes her ache with want.

Pete turns to face Trick when she doesn’t reply and Trick is frowning, deep in thought, probably thinking of all the ways they could make up for their weaknesses. Pete presses a quick kiss into her neck, leaving sticky juice which makes Trick sigh exasperatedly and swat at Pete, but her eyes are laughing, glittering like lakewater on a summer day.

They walk in silence, Trick not fully pulling herself out of her weird state, and they’re both careful to not step on any sidewalk cracks and risk their shoes getting muddy when Pete speaks up again, “I hate the weather outside, it’s just so rainy— it makes me feel worse, I think.” Pete mumbles, cramming her hands into her jacket pockets.

Trick shuts down again with the mention of the rain and Pete decides not to say anything about it anymore. Instead, Pete talks about this conversation she eavesdropped on earlier that day in Law class, and Trick listens intently, interrupting Pete every few sentences to make a comment that makes Pete laugh and clutch her stomach.

When they reach the bus stop, still dressed in their cheering uniforms, Pete sees three girls from the team and feels her stomach drop and her hands begin to sweat. Pete is a small girl in a body too big for her, a sheep in wolf’s fur, she’s thin skin with no armor. Pete feels her legs go weak when they make eye contact and she looks down at her feet, unconsciously walking faster— she’ll fucking walk home than stay with them. Pete doesn’t notice Trick’s absence until the tension breaks with a shout from one of the girls.

“Good to know you kicked Vicky out of the lineup so _she_ could take her spot.” They don’t say Pete’s name like it’s a bad word, like it’s a curse, that will leave their mouths bleeding with open wounds

“Hey, Pete the creep!” another shouts, a braver one unafraid of the consequences of saying Pete’s name. The name hurts, the blow hitting deeper than it should because Trick had called her that and it had been charming and sweet and funny, and Pete almost forgot how much it can sting— the isolation of teenage girlhood when you’re gay. And where is Trick anyway, why isn’t she beside Pete right now; Pete doesn’t want to look back, afraid to see the girls sneering at her.

Pete is still afraid to turn around, Pete is expecting Trick to withdraw, still stuck in her weird mood because of the rain, withdraw because nobody’s ever really stood up for Pete, withdraw because coach would kill Trick if she were to find out Trick's been playing favorites (even if Pete has been on the team for four years and has continuously proven her place there). But then, there’s the sound of Trick’s voice, of Trick biting back at them. “Keep Pete’s name out of your mouth.”

Pete turns around and sees Trick, fists clenched tightly, her knuckles white, and Pete can imagine the crescent moons from her nails that would be imprinted on to her skin after.

“I just think it’s so unprofessional of you, Patricia.” one of them says with what could be genuine disappointment in her voice.

“Oh fuck off.” Trick answers heatedly. “You can take digs at me all you want but keep Pete out of this. If you keep talking shit, I swear, I’ll kick you out of the lineup too, I don't give a fuck about the competition.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Fucking try me.”

The tension is heavy and Pete is afraid that someone was about to throw punches or high heeled kicks, and that she and Trick were going to leave this scene with bruises and black eyes. There’s silence between both groups for a while, the other girls’ faces heating up with anger, while Trick glares back hard and cold, unflinching over the heat of their gazes. And Pete— Pete is trying not to stare at Trick in awe.

Because this? This feels like Pete and Trick against the world.

It’s not long before the silence is broken when a car rolls up and one of the girls mutters a let’s go to the others, eyes not leaving Pete and Trick. The girls break a part and Pete and Trick watch them as they enter the car, the girls are leaving but the tension only seems to be growing heavier.

“One thing’s for sure, you’re not going to be captain next year, Trick, so we can kick all you dykes out.” The last one to enter says coldly, just before she goes in the car.

Trick growls, almost animalistic, and Pete rushes over to hold her back before Trick does something she’ll regret. Trick shakes underneath Pete’s fingers and there’s red hot anger vibrating throughout Trick’s whole body. Pete is just dumbstruck, mind blank and hands numb, that someone can say something like that.

“Watch your fucking backs.” Trick warns at the car, uncaring if they hear or not, what matters is that they see the shape of her mouth in an ugly snarl and Pete tightens her grip on Trick’s arm, her blunt nails digging into Trick’s skin, but Trick doesn’t notice, her eyes still stuck in that angry haze.

They watch the car drive away until it disappears. It's only when the car is gone from their sight that Trick loses the angry scowl to be replaced by something even more vulnerable, Pete sees tears begin to form in Trick’s eyes and Pete wipes them with the sleeves of her jacket, soothingly mumbling nonsense to Trick as Trick begins to hiccup, trying to keep her cries in.

Trick calms down after a while, sighing heavily and unable to meet Pete’s gaze. “Sorry you had to see me like that, I'm a fucking mess when I'm pissed.”

Wordlessly, Pete holds up Trick’s chin so she can see her eyes and Pete kisses her. “You’re fucking amazing.” Pete whispers into Trick’s mouth. Pete holds Trick’s face in her hands, and this is where Pete stores all her love, here in the tips of her fingers, in her palms, it starts and ends at her wrists— she wants Trick to feel it, wants her to feel what Pete is feeling because Pete knows words, knows how to write them, and how to say them, knows all the right words for the right time, but they can never really be true, not like this. “You’re so so so amazing.”

“Oh, shut up.” Trick says modestly, but there’s a large grin on her face and she looks halfway pleased with herself. Trick looks back to normal, but Pete can still sense an underlying hurt somewhere inside, it's seen in the way Trick's hands have a slight tremor in them and the way her lower lip wobbles. “That was like, so high school, it’s embarrassing.”

Pete kisses her again on the back of the bus. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Pete repeats over and over the whole ride home; this feeling alien to her, this feeling of being protected like she was something important, like she mattered.

Pete kisses her against the brick wall near her apartment and traps Trick’s body there, caging them from the rest of the world, shielding Trick’s eyes so all she could see was Pete. Trick’s eyes are dark and intense as they meet Pete’s. “Trick, nobody’s ever done something like that for me— well maybe my mom, but whatever."

Pete kisses her while she’s trying to unlock the door. Pete can’t keep her hands off Trick and Trick lets her, laughing into Pete’s mouth and this might be Pete’s favorite taste ever, Trick’s laugh is like warm honey, her favorite feeling, the swooping of her stomach like the drop of a rollercoaster, into this taste on her tongue. “You taste amazing.” Pete says, trying to taste the words in Trick's mouth.

Pete kisses her in the secrecy of their bed— their own little space, like her heart. Pete’s lost all the words she could tell Trick, doesn’t know how to form sentences anymore, so she tries to move her mouth as if she knew how to.

 

  
  
“You know,” Trick says when Pete’s lips feel numb and tingly from kissing too hard, they might be bruised. ”you didn’t have to thank me for a while ago. I just want you to know that, you know? It’s something any decent person would have done for you.”

“I know that.” Pete says simply, as Trick shyly ducks her head, her bangs hiding her face. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

Pete crawls into Trick’s lap and kisses her, deep, deeper than before, kisses her like she’s trying to crawl inside Trick’s mouth. “I want to…” they’re hidden underneath the blanket, their dark faces washed with a dull pink glow, Pete squints and Trick glitters. Pete cups Trick’s face with one hand and the other sneaks to underneath her shirt, the skin there is warm, Pete can feel Trick’s blood rushing to where her palm rests, there on the spot somewhere between her fifth and sixth rib, cushioned by this soft thickness around Trick’s waist. “Let me finish what you started this morning.”

Trick sighs deeply when Pete’s fingers dance around the waistband of her skirt, a long sigh like she’s been waiting for this forever, Pete knows that feeling. “Trick, can I?”

“I want to, Pete.” Trick’s voice is sincere just as Pete was about to flip her skirt up. “Trust me, I really, really want to.” Trick gently thumbs the insides of Pete’s thighs and Pete shivers all over. “But not right now, please?”

Pete rolls off Trick, extracting her hands away from Trick’s body, but Trick grabs them still, and rests them underneath her shirt, over her stomach, keeping them there. “If we win the competition next weekend, I’ll make the wait worth it.”

This time Trick means it and it’s so dirty, the way Trick is staring at Pete with hot and heavy eyes, her eyes this dark blue that Pete’s never seen before. Trick licks her lips and Pete doesn’t know if it’s deliberate or not but it makes her warm all over. Pete is acutely aware of the length of Trick’s fingers gripping her wrist, Pete lets out a soft moan that makes Trick grin wide.

“Sorry, baby.” Trick says, meaning it, using the pet name like she did this morning, ruining Pete’s already weak and crumbling defenses.

“No, it’s okay.” Pete gasps out and she pulls away from Trick’s grasp. “I think I’ll go do my paper now before you kill the rest of my brain cells.”

 

  
  
Pete can’t quite tell the difference between real life and dreaming anymore, because after all, Trick was something she never even allowed herself. Trick was something that Pete could only have dreamed of.

So when Pete opens her eyes and finds herself on the hood of a car, a rusting, beat up thing that looks like Pete had stolen it from the nearest junk shop, she doesn’t question it. There’s a thought nagging at her, trying to grasp out of her brain’s unconscious into her consciousness to something she can understand.

Pete only begins to realize it’s a dream when she looks up and sees what could only be the ocean where the sky should be; tides crashing against each other and whirlpools so deep, these are what black holes could only be made of. The ocean is a deep blue that reminds Pete of the feelings of driving around the suburbs at midnight, escaping to the freeway for a couple of hours before the sun rises and before her parents know she’s been out; if that lonely night time sadness had a color, it would be that blue.

Pete looks down to peer beyond the cliff and sees the sky underneath it; the sky is a shade of lavender, quite like the underwear Trick was wearing last night, there’s an aching familiarity in the confusion Pete is feeling at the impossibility of this situation. Pete realizes that this place is oddly reminiscent of her rooftop dreams.

“Been a while,” a voice says next to her, it was Trick’s voice. Pete doesn’t need to turn her head to know it was Trick speaking and doesn’t need to know how she appeared there when Pete was alone just a few seconds ago.

“What do you mean?” Pete asks, her voice sounds far away. Trick ignores her and continues to stare at the ocean above them, her neck a pillar that Pete desperately wanted to kiss.

Trick turns to face her and Trick smiles immediately at the sight of Pete, but her brow was furrowed in confusion. “Why are you staring at me? You’re missing the view.” With that, Trick sticks out her chin back towards where the ocean and sky met, just like how they’re supposed to on Earth, but this time with the opposing, impossible, work of some sort of gravity holding the ocean up and holding the sky down— Pete had always been bad at physics.

Pete still doesn’t turn to look at what’s in front of her. Trick doesn’t look quite like Trick; the freckles on her face were glittering like stardust, her peach-pale skin was like a liquid gold that if Pete were to touch it, she would melt under the touch, her green-blue-brown eyes were honey colored right now. Pete doesn’t know what to think about this version of Trick.

When Pete doesn’t reply or look ahead, Trick sighs and rolls her eyes. She pulls at Pete’s arm until their backs are resting on the windshield. Trick creeps her fingers down to Pete’s hand and Pete takes them, looping their fingers together like Trick was keeping her from floating away, who knew how this weird gravity worked.

“This was when we caught the meteor shower.” Trick says, and when Pete looks at where her finger is pointing, it’s not an ocean anymore. Everywhere around them is this endless dark blue with falling stars littering the space, falling with no place to land on so it’s this endless darting light show.  “We watched these stars burn right before our eyes and it was this golden explosion.

I remember thinking, this is how summer must feel on earth. It was a different experience for the both of us; you knew what summers were, I knew what it meant when stars fell— I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

Trick turns to face Pete now, there’s a softness in her eyes, gentle, and it washes over Pete. “I remember turning my head, just like now, and thinking you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I thought how lucky I am. How lucky you were. That in the millions of people I could have met, the millions of times this could have happened with someone else, it happened with you, this impossible thing.”

Pete wants to tell Trick that she’s wrong, that Pete’s already seen this before, in other dreams, and that’s why she’d rather stare at Trick in this one; it doesn’t matter that she gets to stare at Trick all the time anyway, that sight is always going to be better than anything her mind can make up.

But Pete is suddenly mute, a heaviness in her chest that made it difficult to speak, but it was a good heaviness, like she never knew she could be this full from a true feeling, this truest feeling of Trick speaking and Pete listening. So Pete kisses Trick and tastes what could be stars on her lips, the stars that Jo’s classmate was talking about all those weeks ago, back when Pete lived in reality and not her dreams. Pete kisses Trick and it’s barely anything, it’s just a brush of lips, but it feels like universes were exploding from within themselves to turn the air around them into electricity.

Pete makes the human mistake of closing her eyes, so when she opens them again, her lips are on Trick’s back, kissing her skin through the thin gray t-shirt that Trick still insists on wearing even though it had a thousand holes in it; Pete wakes up from a dream to fall back into another one.

“Trick,” Pete whispers, sticking her cold hands into the warmth of Trick’s stomach. Trick jumps a little as she wakes up and then she sighs long-sufferingly.

“Another weird dream?” Trick groans, but it’s not unkind. “I don’t know if they’re even weird anymore if they’re a regular occurrence for you.”

But Pete feels Trick slowly waking up anyway, her body shifting to turn and face her. Trick's eyes flutter, a flicker of light like broken porch lights, still sleepy and fighting to stay awake, but Pete sees them slowly gaining focus when her gaze lands on Pete. “Go on, tell me what it is.” Trick hums, voice thick with sleepiness, moving like warm honey, leaning forward to rest her head on the crook of Pete’s shoulder, inhaling deeply, but awake.

And because this is the more realistic version of Pete’s dreams, this Pete speaks and this Trick listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was literally just 5k words of pete being horny for trick but like i swear there's a reason for it. sort of. maybe. i hope. jdnsjdn anyway thank u so much if you're still reading this!! leave some comments n kudos if u can, i would love to know what u guys think/if u have any criticism :^) see u in d next chapter !


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've read past chapters, peep the tags and see if u notice something new lol

They’re in some gas station in the middle of nowhere making a stop to the hotel they're staying at for the tournament because some girls were hungry and some girls needed to pee. Pete and Trick are hiding behind the convenience store, Trick smoking a cigarette and showing off her lame party tricks for Pete, forming smoke rings that Pete catches and throws into the air before they disappeared. Pete’s glad for the break, she’s never been a good traveller, always vibrating, like she can’t stop not moving for one second, and her legs ache from being cramped inside that tiny, cold bus for the past hour and a half.

The bus they’re on rattles like the half-full Lithium pill bottle Pete drank from this morning and the AC is too cold, Pete’s been sitting on her hands to keep them warm for the past hour. Her arm, the one that’s a few inches from Trick’s, burns; it’s near enough for Pete to remain aware of her presence but far enough to be casual in front of the other girls. They’re seated in the front of the bus, right where everyone can see them; Pete usually sits at the back and Trick at the front, and Pete was about to retreat to her usual spot, but Trick had dragged her there and rested her head on Pete’s shoulder for the first few minutes, keeping Pete there— Pete didn’t mind. Trick didn’t seem to notice Pete clinging on to that piece of contact, of skin against skin, as a means of staying sane in the noisy bus.

“Isn’t smoking bad for you if you’re a singer?” Pete asks, wrinkling her nose when a cloud of smoke flows to her face.

Trick apologizes and fans the smoke away from Pete. Trick covers her cigarette with a hand as she takes one last drag, hollowing her cheeks. “I’m not a singer.” Trick snorts as she kills her cigarette on the graffitied wall ( _It is our suffering that brings us together. It is not love_  in yellow paint _—_  Pete didn't like the message, but she may have to slightly agree with the sentiment).

“Yeah you are.”

“I’m not. I only ever sing for you.” Trick shrugs. “I play too many instruments anyway, they’re enough for me.”

“I think you could really make it as a singer.” Pete says sincerely and Trick smiles at her as she drops her cigarette into the trash, she stretches out her arms and wiggles her fingers until Pete embraces her. Trick stands on her tiptoes and kisses Pete’s forehead. “Nah,” Trick whispered, voice rough from smoke. “Thanks though.”

They walk back to the bus, their elbows bumping against each other’s on purpose and Pete is laughing even though Trick wasn’t saying anything funny. “Can we sit at the back?” Trick asks when they see the rest of the girls walking towards them, making a face that only Pete could see.

“I’m not a backseat kind of girl, Patricia.”

Trick rolls her eyes and shoves Pete a little bit, Pete laughs as she loses her balance and grabs Trick to find it again. “Yeah, I want to, c’mon, I want to cuddle in the backseat.” Pete says with a laugh, throwing an arm around Trick’s neck and bringing her closer.

They sit at the last row, there tucked away where everybody will wonder where they were but not enough to come looking for them. Pete sprawls on the seat, resting her back on the window, and opens her arms for Trick to find a space somewhere between Pete’s chest and the edge of the seat. Trick rests her back on Pete and Pete envelopes Trick in her arms, or maybe she shields her, Pete isn’t sure which.

The bus still rattles and the AC is still so cold, but if Pete closes her eyes, she can pretend she and Trick are back at home where the bed creaks too much and the windows are always left open when it happens to rain.

“I miss my mom.” Pete says, it’s a random thought, it’s a feeling that’s always in the back of her heart; Pete doesn’t always feel it, but it’s always there and it always makes her ache. The bus driver’s radio station is playing a song, something her mom used to hum under her breath while she washed the dishes and Pete studied on the kitchen table. Pete hasn’t returned her calls in a while now, Wilmette and the people there all feel so far away, like a whole different life.

“Your family is coming right?” Trick asks Pete before her thoughts could go any further.

“Yeah.” Pete can’t help the smile that she feels stretch her lips; her mom had bought tickets months in advance and had left dozens voice messages and texts telling Pete she better be in the lineup. Pete bites her lip, hard that it might bleed, but blurts the words out before she could chicken out anyway, her stomach dropping, it feels like a black hole in there, the feeling just keeps dropping lower and further. “Do you want to meet them? My family? Like um, as my girlfriend?”

Pete wants to blush, it’s like the high school experience she never had; bringing a prom date to meet her parents, kisses on the porch while her parents peeked through the blinds, her mom waiting on the lawn with her hands on her hips because Pete got home too late and her date was keeping her there in their car for a few more minutes of making out. Trick laughs but it’s not mean and Pete loves her for it, Pete wonders what it would have been like to meet Trick when she was younger, if Trick could have saved her from being this way.

“Yeah, of course, Pete.” Trick replies, shifting so Pete can see the way her blue eyes sparkle and light up like the streetlights outside lighting the road away from home.

“What about you? Are your parents coming?”

Trick shrugs in Pete’s arms and it’s a weird feeling, it feels like she has two extra arms on her. “Don’t have any.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Trick says firmly and she means it. Pete knows when a conversation should be ended and doesn't press for more. Pete doesn’t ask why or how or what, just leaves it at that. Instead, Pete brings out a book she kept in her back pocket, reading aloud lines she liked for Trick who was staring outside, counting the cars and deep in thought, not replying except for hums under her breath. Pete doesn’t ask, but Trick tells her anyway.

Trick tells Pete, just before they fall asleep on the bus, both their bodies slowly lulling into sleep. Trick stares fixedly on the highway outside, on the rainy sky, on anything that wasn’t Pete. “I ran away from home to go to high school here, sort of, nothing bad, I told them I wanted to go to study here, away from home— living there just suffocated me."

"They died after a while, but left enough money for me to graduate university.” Trick turns her head to face Pete, there’s this sadness that Pete’s never seen before, the push and pull of the difference of wanting and needing to; like pulling and pushing at wishbones, not knowing when it will crack, if the pressure is too much or too little. Pete knows that feeling. “People said it was me leaving them that killed them, but like, nobody really understood that if I stayed there, I was going to die.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told.” Trick says quietly, body smaller than it should be in Pete’s arms right now. “I don’t know how to explain it without making it sound like I’m something to be pitied— I was happy. I just hated knowing I had this expiration date over my head.

“But you get that right? You know that feeling?” Trick asks her, her voice tiny, afraid of how Pete will react. “It’s not— it’s not selfish of me for feeling that way?”

Something about the conversation makes Pete feel like Trick is having two simultaneous conversations; same words, same feelings, but different contexts and she wasn’t telling Pete the second one. But Pete folds in her legs and holds Trick close anyway. Pete wants to tell Trick that she can shield her, can protect her, from these waves of sadness that Pete can see crashing in her eyes right now and can feel beneath the skin on her chest.

“Yeah, I do.” Pete says, and it was enough for Trick who began to breathe easier in her arms, waves soothing down until all Pete can feel was her heartbeat. “And you— you’re not wrong for feeling that, you know? You’re not selfish. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Trick exhales, like a breath she had been holding for the past twenty years, and Pete sees she’s crying, quiet tears that are streaming down her cheeks; there’s still something so heartbreakingly beautiful about Trick, the way her tears catch the light. Pete think that Trick wasn’t sad or happy, she was just relieved. “Thank you.” Trick says, voice getting caught in her throat as she hiccuped. “I didn’t know I needed someone to tell me that.”

They don’t talk anymore, Trick sniffles and Pete wipes her tears away with her hoodie sleeve and Trick laughs in embarrassment while Pete just tries to keep herself from crying too. Trick falls asleep before Pete does, Pete feels it, the way she goes lax in her arms and her breathing becomes more rhythmic, like Trick was still trying to sing, even though she said she didn’t. Here in the backseat, Pete falls in love with Trick all over again, falling asleep as easy as falling in love now.

 

 

When they get to their hotel, Pete thinks that it isn’t so glamorous, it’s somewhere in between a three star Airbnb, the shitty dorm rooms the university gave to freshmen, and a drive in motel in the middle of nowhere you’re forced to take because you and your three best friends are broke. The only redeemable feature was that she and Trick were sharing a room, the two single beds still way too small even if they moved them next to each other. Trick blushes when she tells Pete, pale face warm with embarrassment, as Pete leers at her. “We don’t have to room with each other if you don’t want to.”

Pete pauses to stare at Trick and say incredulously, “Trick, you practically live in my apartment already, it’s kind of too late to be shy.”

Trick just shrugs, a bashful smile still on her face. Pete shakes her head, a smile tugging on her own lips, and she kisses Trick’s cheek before dumping her bag on the foot of the bed. Pete throws herself on the bed, sinking into the cheap mattress and sheets that smelled like bleach. This was heaven to her. Pete watches Trick systematically unpack her own things, pyjamas for the next three nights into the top drawer, casual clothes stacked on top of them, hanging her cheerleading uniform on the door of the closet. Trick moves in routine and Pete listens to her shower, brush her teeth, and change into new clothes, the sound of familiarity lulls Pete into a half-asleep state, Pete’s never been a good sleeper, but this calmness washes over her and her eyelids flicker shut.

“Pete,” Trick calls her attention just as Pete was about to fall asleep.

“What?” Pete whines and reluctantly opens her eyes.

“Coach said we’re having dinner soon.” Trick makes a face, scrunching up her nose and rests her hands on her hips, “C’mon, if you’re not going to shower, can you at least change into new clothes?” she complains. “I don’t want to cuddle next to you and your dirty bus clothes.”

Pete whines and buries her face into the pillow, she considers ignoring Trick and falling asleep anyway, she’s that _close_ , but she knows Trick is going to open her mouth to complain some more until Pete listens. Pete knows Trick well, knows the words that will spill out of her mouth before she even opens it. Pete knows Trick well, knows the best way to rile her up, and Trick loves getting annoyed, no matter how much she denies it.

“Okay, fine.” Pete sighs dramatically and tries not to smile when Trick’s face lights up at the small and easy victory, falling for the bait.

Pete detangles herself from the covers and takes her hoodie off. Pete’s head pops out and Trick is watching her silently, finally suspicious that Pete wasn’t being difficult about this. Pete smiles at her and doesn’t break eye contact as she unbuttons her jeans, slowly dragging the zipper down, shimmying out of her jeans until they rested around the middle of her thighs, Pete makes sure to squirm so Trick can watch the way her tanned stomach folds in itself and the way the light catches on the ugly tattoo she has hovering above the line of her black boy short panties.

Trick opens her mouth but Pete shoots her a dirty smile and Trick immediately closes it again, her face so red, Pete would make fun of her if it didn’t mean that the magic of this would be ruined. There’s no noise between them, just their breathing that was slowly growing heavier, as Pete slowly takes off her tank top (Pete sends a quick prayer of thanks to God that she’s wearing a mildly sexy bra today, baby pink lace and mesh. Pete owns sexier ones but at least this one didn’t have holes because that would definitely have ruined the moment, Trick would have laughed at her and Pete would have gotten pissed and locked herself in the bathroom). Pete throws her tank top at Trick who just lets it fall to the ground, eyes still glued to Pete, almost unaware of it.

Pete tries her best to keep still on the bed as Trick drinks in the sight of her. Pete wonders what she looks like right now, her golden brown skin a contrast against the white sheets, her jeans halfway on so there’s just a tease of her muscular thighs, her tattoos, especially Trick’s favorite, a collar of thorns, a vivid black underneath these fluorescent lights, digging deep into her skin.

But Pete feels like Pete too, she doesn’t feel like she’s pretending to be some hot girl, a caricature of herself. Pete’s not conscious of her underwear not matching or her panties not being sexy enough, of the strip of body hair she forgot to shave off, she doesn’t even care that Trick probably knows she hasn’t washed this particular bra yet.

“Trick,” Pete says, throat rough and quiet, she feels warm heat of Trick’s gaze wash over her. “I need your help pulling my jeans down.”

Pete is fully capable of doing so by herself, she and Trick both know that, but Trick looks like she’s going to explode right now anyway, eyes bugging out, she begins to splutter, words Pete doesn’t understand, until Trick manages to spit out in exasperation, “Pete, your porno tactics are not going to work on me.”

The moment is broken when Pete laughs and Trick begins to laugh with her, but Pete doesn’t mind all that much. Pete is still laughing when she sits up and kicks her jeans off, an exaggerated strip tease where she was more concerned about not twisting a muscle than she was about how her boobs or ass looked. Trick only tries to quiet down her laughs, looking much more normal now, less deer in the headlights and more like girl in an ugly band t-shirt. Pete toes her jeans off the bed, on the threadbare carpet she will not dare to walk barefoot on later, and looks at Trick expectantly, who’s still trying to stop giggling, fist on her mouth and shoulders shaking.

“Hot girl in just socks and underwear? I might be into that.” Trick says breathless from laughing, but she’s walking towards the bed now. Then a little more seriously, in the loosest definition possible in this type of situation, “Pete, I am not going to nap next to you like that.”

Pete pouts, thrusting her bottom lip out and she watches Trick’s eyes dart down to it. “Please, Trick.” Pete says needy, not knowing what she’s asking for as she pulls on Trick’s wrist to kiss her. Trick doesn’t fight her, she lets Pete slip her lips into her own. Trick hums in pleasure when Pete bites her lip and Pete takes that as a sign to move them a step forward.

Pete pulls on the back of Trick’s neck, bringing her closer, until Trick gets the message and sits on Pete’s lap. Trick’s weight is a comforting heaviness and Pete feels herself getting wet as the cotton of Trick’s threadbare sweatpants brushes on her bare thighs. They make out like that, slow and heavy, tongues exploring each other’s mouths, and teeth occasionally hitting each other, making them laugh into each other.

“Trick, please, I need you now.” Pete whines, squirming underneath Trick. Trick pulls away and she looks at Pete again, eyes heavy with seriousness.

“Are you sure?”

Pete nods, her fingers shaking as she holds Trick steady on her lap. Trick hesitates, she looks away from Pete now, unable to meet her eyes, “I don’t want to take advantage of you, you know?”

Pete groans and falls to lie down on her back, her hair falls on her face and she watches Trick from beneath her bangs. Trick has a lopsided frown on her face and a dead-serious set in her eyes. It’s an understandable concern, hell, Pete feels like if she didn’t have such shitty coping mechanisms, she would also be concerned about how much she does not give a fuck, but she doesn’t at all.

“Trick, listen, I’ve been taking my medication, like, I know it’s not something magical that will make me feel better, and this is so unsexy to bring up right now but I swear I’m not going through an episode.” Pete says in one breath, then in a softer voice as she thumbed Trick’s wrist, “I just want you, like I genuinely want you.”

“But like, people have taken advantage of you before.” Trick says, her eyes drawn away from Pete like magnets of the same side.

Pete sits up again and holds the sides of Trick’s face so she would look at her. Pete holds Trick’s gaze and doesn’t break eye contact, Trick’s eyes are blue, a calm sea during a hurricane. “Yeah, people have, and it fucking sucks and it definitely changed this part of me, but I want to do this with you.

Pete holds Trick’s cheek in the palm of her hand and Trick leans into it automatically, “I’m not pressuring you. We don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable with it yet, but like, Trick. I trust you, more than I’ve ever trusted anybody, and that’s why I want to do this with you.”

Trick opens her mouth, ready to argue with Pete and tell Pete she didn’t deserve her or whatever bullshit self-deprecating thoughts Trick said sometimes, but Pete silences her. “You don’t have to say anything now. I don't want you to. Just— just hug me.”

Pete holds Trick close to her, so Trick can cradle her head on Pete’s shoulder and so Pete can rub her back soothingly. They probably look ridiculous, Pete down to her underwear while Trick was on her lap dressed in a too big shirt and sweatpants, but Pete wished she could see them right now. Wish she could see her own face and see the fondness and gratefulness she was feeling right now, wish she could see Trick’s face just because.

Trick is quiet for a moment as she takes it in, thinking. The silence is interrupted when Trick sighs heavily and lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I think I killed your boner. Sorry about that” Trick says, and Pete can imagine the hesitant smile on her face.

Pete pulls back and beams at Trick, the other girl’s eyes just a little wet, but Pete kisses a chaste kiss to her neck, “Wanna watch shitty reality TV while we wait for the others?”

Trick groans and Pete laughs, “Hey, you have to make it up to me!”

“I thought you said no pressure,” Trick mutters darkly but she’s already sliding off of Pete’s lap, looking for the remote. “I’ll see what’s on. You go wear some clothes.”

 

 

When Pete emerges from the shower, dressed in shorts and a white tank top, Trick only rolls her eyes and pats the space next to her on the bed. Pete ignores the space and worms her way into Trick’s instead, resting her head on Trick’s lap where Trick’s fingers immediately find their way to card Pete’s hair.  The only thing on was a reality show that was genuinely shitty even by Pete’s standards, but they watch it anyway just so the room would have noise. They sit comfortably in silence and Pete would never tell Trick, because it won’t make sense when it comes out of her mouth, because there are some thoughts that are just so wildly crazy that Pete doesn’t even want to waste the energy trying to explain it, but Pete is glad that they’re over the coming together to come apart to come back together routine of their relationship— that this is the reason, this stability that they’ve fallen into, is why Pete believes in Trick, this kick drum beat in their chests, more than anyone. Pete kisses Trick’s knee through the cotton and when she turns her face to see Trick’s reaction, Trick is only smiling at her fondly, eyes crinkled up, Trick’s smile drowning out the conversation on the TV.

They’re interrupted by a knock an hour into the show to which they were both now heavily invested on the strangers on screen. “Patricia, Wentz, it’s time for dinner.” It’s coach, Pete’s heard her voice for four years but it sounds alien all of a sudden, like it can’t exist in a room, in a moment where it’s only Pete and Trick.

Pete meets Trick’s eyes and she pleads silently, fisting the bottom of Trick’s t-shirt, _stay_ , Pete wants to say, stay because there’s this part of Pete that just wants to pretend the world outside doesn’t exist; other people don’t exist, time doesn’t exist, the cheerleading tournament and dinner with the squad doesn’t need to exist. Trick sighs at Pete’s pout but she thumbs Pete’s cheek fondly, “Coach, we’re going to stay in,” Trick calls out, because she has the golden voice, because coach adores their little golden ticket to championships. “We’re not feeling so good. We’ll get some room service later.”

There’s a long pause where Pete thinks coach doesn’t believe Trick’s excuse and was going to lecture them about spending money on overpriced room service that wasn’t part of their approved diet or funds, and Pete is prepared to hide underneath the blankets and drag Trick with her anyway, but coach replies in a resigned tone, “Just don’t stay up too late, girls.”

Pete whoops, not caring that coach will hear because she can’t take it back anyway and instead of covering it with a palm, Trick just laughs with her, her lap jumping and Pete’s head falls off of it. They look at each other again, grins mischievous, and Pete thinks, as she takes her place back on Trick’s lap and Trick turns the volume up louder, that it’s them against the world again, even if it’s just the two of them that exist in it.

 

 

Unsurprisingly, Pete and Trick don’t listen to coach’s request— it’s nearing 1 am, the moonlight and city lights streaming in the room, the faint sounds of people shouting with laughter outside and truck horns in the distance. Television at that time was either foreign cartoon shows with no subtitles or B-movies that were part action-romantic-comedy and part soft porn— Pete chooses to watch the latter ( _Pete,_ Trick says when the lead actress takes off her shirt during a dramatic action scene, _can we please go back to watching weird cartoons?_ Pete ignores her and throws the remote across the room to where they will both be too lazy to reach for it).

The beginnings of a corny sex scene begin to occur and Trick sighs in exasperation and crosses her arms, loudly considering picking up the remote or going to sleep (Pete’s surprised Trick even managed to last thirty minutes into it). Pete begins to mock the actresses’ voice, exaggeratedly crying out in climax with her to make Trick laugh. Soon, Trick is giggling so hard, clutching her stomach and slapping Pete’s arm, begging her to stop, while the movie plays on without them, forgotten.

“Make me,” Pete says in a high whine, her voice still stuck.

Trick smiles and leans forward to kiss her, it’s a dirty kiss with purpose, more of a fist than lips, and Pete can’t stop. Everytime Trick pulls away, Pete chases the taste of Trick’s mouth. “Thought you said you wanted to wait.” Pete says with a smirk, but she’s breathless, like she’s been holding her breath like she was underwater.

“Ick. How come you always talk like you’re in a porno?” Trick groans but she pulls Pete in anyway. Pete lets the comment slide, the same way her mouth slides back to Trick’s.

“Okay, clothes off.” Trick commands when Pete slipped a hand underneath Trick’s shirt, Trick uses the same voice she uses during rehearsals and it makes Pete’s spine shiver and eager to please.

Pete untangles herself from Trick and quickly strips off her tank top, not like she was hiding much anyway, and Trick was in the middle of taking off her own sweats when she pauses to watch Pete, hungry blue eyes tracking down every move Pete makes. Pete laughs at her and moves towards Trick, swinging her hips which makes Trick smile. Pete loops her fingers around Trick’s drawstrings and pulls them down so it pools around her ankles. They make out some more and Trick pushes Pete down on the bed, palm flat on her chest, where her heartbeat was.

Trick was sucking on Pete’s tattoos when she detaches her mouth to ask, “Okay, okay, just want to confirm, we’re really doing this?”

Pete groans in frustration and brings Trick’s head back down with a hand to the back of her neck. “Yes, I want to. Do you want to?”

“God, yes.” Trick laughs, presumably at their stupidity and Pete feels warmth pool inside her stomach that isn’t from the making out or from the way Trick’s mouth shaped into a familiar laugh that she felt on her skin there for the first time— this whole stupid dancing around the topic, working for it instead of making it easy, was just so familiarly them, Pete can’t imagine another way their first time can go.

Trick sneaks her fingers to Pete’s back and unclips her bra, slipping it off Pete’s arms. Trick makes a tiny noise, somewhere between a whine and a word that sounds like Pete’s name, at the sight of Pete’s bare breasts. Pete bites her bottom lip to hold back her own whine when she sees Trick’s eyes darken, pupils blown.

Trick kisses her one last time, before licking down from her jaw to collar bones where she momentarily nips on the skin there and Pete sighs at the hint of pleasure pain shooting up to where Trick’s teeth sink in. Trick begins to move her mouth, dragging her teeth along Pete’s skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, until she reaches a brown nipple. Trick takes it into her mouth and sucks gently, Pete groans, closing her eyes, the pleasure still wasn’t enough. Pete fists Trick’s hair and pushes her down harder, Trick hums in satisfaction and Pete feels the vibrations all over.

“Trick, Trick, Trick,” Pete says like a prayer, voice high, rubbing her legs together for even the slightest feeling of friction and pressure. “I need more, please.”

Trick ignores her and Pete continues to make noises from deep within her throat, her whole body on fire. Trick is gentle and attentive, alternating between nipples, sometimes dragging her mouth along Pete’s ribcage where her head bobs at the tiny mountains of Pete’s bones, a car driving over speed bumps on the road.

“Okay, baby, can you lie down for me?” Trick whispers when Pete lets out a pitiful sound that rhymed with Trick’s name. Pete is confused, her brain slow and oversensitive from the different sensations, but she follows anyway, craning her neck to watch as Trick takes her shirt off. Trick is wearing a black sports bra, not ugly or sexy, it’s very Trick, but the sight makes Pete burn all over.

Trick kisses Pete, lips soft, it’s gentle, lingering, Pete can still taste Trick even when she pulls away and drags her lips down Pete’s body to suck at her hip bones. Pete inhales sharply when Trick hovers over her panties, near enough that Pete can feel her hot breath on her pussy. Trick looks up at the sound, a dirty smile on her face that makes Pete feel feverish.

Trick bites the insides of Pete’s inner thigh, leaving tiny red marks. “Trick, hurry the fuck up.” Pete says, breathless when Trick’s bites stray further away from her pussy. Trick doesn’t reply but Pete feels the graze of her teeth as she smiles against her skin, Trick bites harder at that. Pete groans a fuck you that she means and raises a foot to nudge the back of Trick’s head upward.

Trick follows obediently, not putting up a fight, finally letting Pete guide her towards the heat of Pete’s pussy. Pete forgets how to breathe and spreads her legs further apart when Trick’s nose nudges her clit through her panties. “I’m taking them off now okay, baby.” Trick says, it’s not a question, not a warning, Trick says it with the causality and care of reminding Pete to bring an umbrella to class because it was raining outside.

“So, so pretty.” Trick says softly when Pete’s panties were gone, Pete feels the words more than she hears it as Trick’s mouth moves against her skin.

Trick finally begins to suck on Pete’s pussy, wrapping her pink lips around her clit. Pete cries out a broken moan, head falling back, hands fisting the sheets, trying hard not to thrust  up. “So, good, you’re so good.” Pete whines, craning her neck to watch Trick eat her out. Trick’s eyes meet hers and Pete can barely see her but Trick looks pleased with herself, her eyes lighting up and she hums. Pete feels the vibrations directly on her clit and bites down on her tongue, feels tears form in her eyes from the intensity of what she’s feeling.

The pressure of Trick’s tongue disappears from her clit, to lick around the outside of Pete’s pussy before Trick’s tongue flattens and she slips it into Pete’s entrance. Pete thrusts up accidentally, following the pleasure, but Trick doesn’t mind, she presses her mouth harder against Pete. Pete strokes her fingers through Trick’s hair, trying to breathe through her nose and exhale through her mouth, trying to hold her orgasm back, wanting this moment to last longer.

“More,” Pete can’t believe that voice is hers, doesn’t sound like it’s coming from her body; it’s wrecked and raw, too honest. Pete’s never felt like this before.

Pete doesn’t realize Trick obeyed her request until a finger easily pushes its way inside of her. It continues like that, a gentle thrust in and out, thunder on Pete’s skin and lightning clouding her vision, Pete’s legs were shaking so hard around Trick’s head, Pete was wondering if a girl like her could cause an earthquake like this.

“Almost there,” Pete whispers in a choked off moan. “Please—”

Pete feels Trick’s tongue begin to move faster, alternating between short and quick laps against her clit and longer, drawn out one’s along her entrance, dipping inside to lap and taste Pete. Trick curves her finger inside of Pete and the movement makes Pete’s breath catch around her throat. “There, there.” Pete gasps, gently pulling at Trick’s hair. Trick envelopes her mouth around Pete’s pussy and licks next to her two fingers, tongue moving in and out. Trick uses her free hand to thumb Pete’s clit, once, twice, and Pete is cumming hard around Trick.

Pete’s orgasm hits her like a shooting star. It feels like planets are spinning around her, colors are louder, the moans coming out of Pete are hot-gold; Pete feels like something good and it makes sense that it’s because of Trick, that something like this could happen. Trick licks her through it, her movements slowing down but her mouth still pressed there, chasing the taste of Pete like Pete tasted of summer on days where all the sky seemed to do was rain.

Just as Pete’s back rises off the bed, the last tremor of her orgasm hitting her, stars beneath her eyelids, Pete sees that the hotel lights around them are growing brighter, way too bright, they’re almost blinding. Pete thinks she’s dreaming and she’s watching a meteor shower, but distantly, she realizes it’s not because of her orgasm. Pete cries out one last time, pleasure hitting her deep and hot, just as the lights go out, enveloping Pete and Trick in darkness.

Pete’s legs are still shaking from the intensity of her orgasm, she feels fucked out tired, opening her eyes was hard and her body felt heavy. Trick’s face emerges from between her legs, barely illuminated by the moonlight. Pete is glad, that they had kept the curtains open from a while ago, because she doesn’t know what she would have done if she had missed this sight. Pete doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light; if Trick looked suspicious or if she was looking at Pete in suspicion.

“Come here,” Pete says softly, carding her fingers through Trick’s hair. “I wanna kiss you.”

Trick blends in with the shadows, but when the moonlight hits her directly, Trick’s skin is a pale blue, almost white, a beacon of light in the darkness around them. In this light, Pete only sees Trick clearly when she’s right in front of her. Trick’s eyes are still blown and her chin and mouth are shiny from Pete— Pete did that. Pete leans in to kiss her and the world must have stilled, everything was quiet; there was no sound of people outside, no cars racing down the streets, no city noise— just the almost quiet impact of Pete meeting Trick’s lips. Pete tastes herself and moonlight on Trick; it tastes like home, like Trick and Pete lived on the moon and this was coming back to it. When Trick cradles Pete’s face with her hands, her fingers are wet, and Pete moans into Trick’s open mouth, Trick catches the sound and drowns it out by drinking it in— Pete wonders what that had tasted like because Trick can’t seem to stop.

Pete doesn’t know how long they make out; slow and easy, hip bones brushing against each other, heartbeats felt whenever their chests were near enough; as Pete falls apart to this feeling, Pete thinks she can write a song about this: hips and hearts.

Trick rests herself on Pete, breathing heavily, and Pete is weighed down in the best way. “Do you want me to...?” Pete trails off, fingers dancing on Trick’s back, distracted in the way Trick glitters underneath the moonlight.

Trick laughs around Pete’s neck, the sound like the first day of summer, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know about you, but you cumming and all the lights turning off freaked me out a little.”

Pete pouts and she brings Trick’s fingers to her lips so she could feel it since she can’t see in the dark. Trick just ignores her, pressing a sweet kiss to her shoulder in apology. “You can make it up to me after the tournament— since that was the original plan.” Trick says reproachfully like this was all Pete’s fault.

“Not my fault you couldn’t wait.” Pete shot back as Trick rolls off to wipe her face with Pete’s tank top.

Pete thinks Trick wasn't going to reply but Trick throws a grin from over her shoulder, it’s a promise, and Pete feels like she’s ready to go again if Trick wanted to.

“You’re right.” Trick replies solemnly. “Your socks just did it for me, I couldn’t help myself.”

 

 

Pete wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s only when she feels Trick’s arms around her stomach that she realizes she’s been sleeping better ever since Trick started living in her bed. Pete brushes Trick’s bangs away from her face before gently peeling herself off Trick to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the open window. The city is quieter at this time, somewhere in the middle of midnight and dawn, hours of neon-magic slowly fading into the real world, the hard rain hitting the window makes the colors blur together until Pete can’t read the store front signs and separate the lit windows from each other.

Pete turns towards Trick’s body, the moonlight isn’t enough now, the moon isn’t quite as strong at this time, and she can barely make out Trick’s form rising and falling in tune with the small snores coming from her. It was an odd sensation, not being able to see Trick, but knowing she was there and knowing her well enough to know what she looked like while she slept (open mouth, drool leaking out, eyelids fluttering).

Pete doesn’t remember what she had been dreaming of, somehow, this feeling in her gut, was a lot like waking into a dream instead of waking up from one— there was just something wrong in the air and Pete can’t put a finger on it. Pete wasn’t about to fall into another episode, this wasn’t like that, this tight feeling, was coming from her gut.

Pete doesn’t know how long she’d been staring at Trick (her bones had started to ache, her eyes strained, it had stopped raining, and the sky was now a lighter blue) when Trick stirred from sleep. “Pete?” she asked, voice heavy and confused. “Come back to bed.”

Trick’s eyelids were still shut, but her arms were outstretched invitingly. Pete crawls next to her, staying above the covers, but wrapping her arms around Trick’s body, trying to unknot and kill the butterflies in her stomach. Trick’s arms circled around Pete and brought her closer to her chest. Pete tries to slow down her breathing.

“Something’s wrong.” Pete mumbles into Trick’s shirt, but Trick had already fallen back asleep. It sounds like a warning or an omen, instead of a passing thought, the black hole in Pete's stomach is back.

Pete stays awake a bit longer, watching the sun rise above the buildings, making sure she got to see sunlight stream into their bedroom, before allowing herself to close her eyes and let sleep overcome her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uni is starting again next week and im really going to miss writing long chapters lol (this was 6.5k and i reached 50 pages on my google docs and this is almost 30k?? thats wild im rly emo. i thought about dividing this into two parts but whatever have this since updates r going to get weird again). and wow this fic is almost halfway over which is also wild to me sdkjskdj. sooo thank u so much if you reached until this point and leave some comments n kudos if u can i rly appreciate them :)!!! see you in the next update!


	8. Chapter 8

Pete wakes up and it’s a contrast to the feelings of a nightmare still rattling in her brain even though it was fading fast; there’s the sunlight streaming through the thin, yellow curtains, lines of gold cutting through the sheets, rumpled and dirtier than they looked last night. Pete’s eyes slowly trail up, following the blanket’s wrinkles like they were winding crossroads that will lead her home. The blanket ends somewhere around Trick’s waist, Trick, for some reason, had bothered to wear the panties from last night but hadn’t bothered to wear anything else, her pale skin glowing gold where the sun touches her, thin ginger hair rising on top of goosebumps that pop up from her skin.

A few seconds later, Trick’s eyes flicker open, once, twice, thrice, trying to fight off sleep, and Pete grins at her. “You’re staring, creep.” Trick slurs, her free arm, the one that wasn’t currently being crushed by Pete’s weight, gently wraps around the back of Pete’s neck to pull her forward for a kiss.

Trick tastes like last night, that is of starlight, and Saturday morning, and that is of something star crossed (maybe the word Pete was looking for was soulmates, but she thinks she and Trick in this universe might be made of something more than past lives and running into each other in every one). Pete kisses Trick until she really forgot what dreaming of nightmares felt like. Pete moves away and gently rests herself on top of Trick, chest to chest. Trick doesn’t even pretend to hate it, only weakly fighting back with a defensive grumble, but the hands tracing shapes on Pete’s naked back say otherwise.

“Mom is getting here today, the rest of them too,” Pete mumbles into Trick’s hair, still somehow managing to smell like honey. “she’s going to love you.”

Trick makes a sound and Pete’s chest vibrates with it. “Brought a lot of shitty dates home huh?”

“Most of the time. They could have done worse, and I could have done better.” Pete replies and Trick laughs at that even though it wasn’t that funny. Trick’s hands hold on to Pete’s waist as they both shake with laughter, the sound filling up the room, the feeling sounding like heartbeats as it hits their chests.

When it quiets down again, Trick is gasping for breath when Pete holds herself up on her elbows to look at Trick. Trick’s pale skin is rosy, cheeks flushed and pupils a little blown. Trick’s eyes blue-green-brown-whatever-color-Trick’s-eyes-were are gold right now, mostly because the sun was too high up; they probably overslept and missed some important reminders from coach over breakfast, but whatever, they don’t actually have to show up until later.

Trick brushes a strand of hair away from Pete’s face and she smiles at Pete, this slow, sleep drunk lift of her lips, eyes still a little soft around the edges and vulnerable from dreaming of whatever people like Trick dreamt of. “Don’t know what I’d do if I lose you.”

There’s something serious about it, could have been a joke, could have been an offhand comment that Trick didn’t really mean anything of, just Trick being Trick, but something about it, the nightmare still there in the back of Pete’s mind, makes Pete, as always, focus on it. Pete’s natural talent to overthink the smallest things and jump to conclusions was a rival to her talent of jumping and spinning in the air when she cheered.

“I don’t plan on letting go of you so easily.” Pete says seriously and Trick’s smile widens, just a hint of shyness at the earnesty in Pete’s tone.

“I know that.” Trick replies gently. Pete rests her face in the space of Trick’s neck and holds Trick close. Pete inhales, smells bleach and sweat and Trick and her own smell there.

“I’m serious, Trick. You’re half doomed to me now.” Pete mouths into Trick’s skin, tasting the goosebumps that rise.

“Half-doomed?”

“I can be nice sometimes. You’re nice all the time, though.”

“Mmm. I don’t know about that.”

“Semisweet then,” Pete says with a finality, licking Trick’s neck to prove a point. Trick pushes Pete off with a muffled laugh but Pete holds tight, digging her hands under Trick’s back to keep herself glued to Trick. “We’re true north soulmates, we’re made for each other in every life, Trick.”

And Pete does believe that they’re more than soulmates, really, she does, but she also believes that in the different millions of times that this moment could have existed, all she can really be sure of is that Trick is always there with her. Trick doesn’t laugh this time but Pete sees her smile as she cards her fingers through Pete’s hair, smoothing at the unruly curls because Pete hasn’t ironed them in a while. “I know.” is all Trick says in reply.

 

Pete is warming up for practice, but her eyes wander to across the field, drawn to coach and Trick’s solemn forms. Coach has her arms crossed around her chest and a deep frown on her face, while Trick’s shoulders are hunched down and she’s nervously picking at her nails, scuffing her feet against the grass. They were only late for half an hour, coach wasn’t normally so hard on Trick, but then again, Trick wasn’t normally tardy because she was in the shower with Pete. It was like a line had been crossed last night, they weren't star crossed anymore, they were allowed to just be Pete and Trick without any doom looming over their heads, unable to keep their hands off each other, always itching for naked skin, any sort of contact making a warm thrill pool in Pete's stomach like she was in high school again.

In between Pete’s stretches, coach lets go of Trick with a wave of her hand and from what Pete can hear is a louder, final warning about responsibility and priorities that coach probably aimed at Pete too. Something about it makes Pete’s arms and legs feel heavier, her chest a little more tight, guilt clawing its way up her throat. The same, old thoughts that maybe Pete wasn’t good for Trick, that Trick could really do better than her, were creeping in again. But then, Trick meets Pete’s eyes, as if she could feel it from across the field, and Pete sees the small smile that lights up her face— Trick and her magical mind reading abilities saving Pete from falling into that weird, depressive headspace once again; like Pete was an astronaut in her own head, space endless and dark, except for when the sun, that is Trick, shines over it and it’s morning again. Trick flashes a quick thumbs up at Pete when nobody’s looking before jogging to the rest of the team, ready to start practice.

“Hey, girls.” Trick starts. The team barely listens at first, somewhere along the way of finding out that Trick was into girls, and specifically Pete, has left everyone a little colder around her. They’re not fast to respond now, they barely smile at Trick in the hallways, and Trick’s party invites have dwindled to mean almost nothing but cursory invites— not that those things mattered to her, Trick would say to comfort Pete. Pete’s threatened to cuss them all out, has even cried big ugly tears to Trick in apology, but Trick had just shrugged it off and invited Pete to cuddle or order takeout.

Trick is still captain though, is still this little cheerleader super rocket superstar, no matter what, even if her lips were glued to Pete’s and her hands were drawn to Pete’s hips and inner thighs. So the girls listen, no matter how much they don’t want to, stopping practice and Pete is still amazed until now at the way Trick can hold people’s attention like she was the center of it all.

“I know the weather sucks today, coach said she checked it last night and it was supposed to be sunny, but well,” Trick’s eyes go up and everyone else follows. The sky is a dark gray, almost the color of dusk, Pete feels like something doesn’t feel right, her hair stands and there’s a chill behind her neck. Trick nervously laughs and everyone’s back to the ground, attention back to her.

“Anyway, weather or not, the tournament is tomorrow and...” Trick trails off, never been that good at public speaking or their pre-tournament pep talks, and she grins sheepishly. The more loyal freshmen, the ones who didn’t know they were supposed to hate Pete, laugh and Trick smiles at them.

“Thanks.” Trick says and they laugh a little louder. “Anyway, yes, tournament tomorrow, let’s uh, let’s win it.”

Pete hides her smile, but she knows her eyes are lit up because when Trick glances at her, the tension in Trick’s shoulder loosens a bit and she throws a smile Pete’s way. “Let’s go then. Get in formation, girls.”

They’re practicing their routine for tomorrow and there’s this split second, barely a touch, too fast for anyone but Pete and Trick to notice, but there’s this brush of skin, a weight on Pete’s hands that isn’t her sadness or some blue pills. There— there is that meeting of their eyes, whiskey brown to blue-green-brown, and Pete feels like everything in her life has led up to this seemingly insignificant moment to everyone else but them, where Trick falls and Pete catches her; and even after all this time, or maybe it’s because of everything that’s happened so far, it still feels like the opposite, it still feels like Trick does all the catching and Pete does all the falling (in love).

Trick tries to smile, Pete only knows it because she knows what Trick looks like just as she’s about to laugh or grin, this little twitch of her lips right before her mouth opens. Pete doesn’t catch the flash of Trick’s teeth but she knows it’s there anyway when Trick falls out of her arms to face the crowd of hundreds who will be there tomorrow.

Pete falls behind Trick, watches her back, her eyes never leaving Trick, she’s memorized all the steps by now so it’s muscle memory. The sun hasn’t shined for days, the sky is this bleak grey that’s threatening to break rain but never does. But right now, right in front of her, Pete thinks Trick might be this kind of star who lights up the whole team, they’re all only so lucky to even be around her; right now, Trick’s not some sort of superstar cheerleader, but this super star who could be a million light years away and still keep Pete warm, can still make Pete feel so small but in the good way where Pete realizes she can only control what her hands touch and not the heavy weight of the world she sometimes feels on her shoulders.

Pete gets lost in her movement, gets lost in her head to the countdown of the next step, Pete gets lost and she loves this— how she could be a whole different person when she's cheerleading, how she's just this body, separate from mind, heart, and soul, to just fall to the ground or to carry the next girl. In the bigger scheme of things, it's not much, but here, in this little football field where the grass has died from the lack of sun and where the air smells faintly of rain, Pete feels like she's a part of something.

 

 

Trick falls to their bed without a word, but Pete senses she’s about to start complaining, her lips are pursed and her eyes are narrowed as she stares at the ceiling, deep in contemplation, most likely wondering what the best opening line would be for the next episode of her dramatics like they were some sort of 90's sitcom with a laugh-track and an audience. Wisely, Pete surveys her from a safe distance by the bathroom door; Trick’s still only half dressed in a pair of jeans and her bra, even though they’re supposed to meet Pete’s parents in less than an hour now. Trick’s hair is wet and it sticks to her face, looking like the perfect image of all the sirens at sea who called over desperate sailors who only had a shred of dignity. Not that Pete can judge them, Pete is the modern day weak man because she’s drawn to Trick, letting Trick pull her in for a kiss that could have killed her in another life. All they ever seem to do is make out these days, slow and easy, hard and fast, against walls and on floors, in buses and beds, lingering, quick; all types of kisses, Pete must have tasted them all by now.

“Tell me again, why did I agree to meet your parents? I suck at this.” Trick whines, finally deciding on how to start; it’s pretty weak, but her voice rings throughout the room in a symphony that would have grated Pete’s ears if she didn’t think every sound Trick made was music; as far Trick’s constant complaints go, Pete would give this a 6.5/10 on the scale.

“Because you love me.” Pete mumbles in between kisses, almost forgetting to respond.

Trick gets a dopey smile on her face and she says, “Yeah, I do.” There’s this look in Trick’s eyes; baby worlds living inside the blue and big and wide of Trick’s eyes. Pete feels Trick go soft underneath her fingers, melting underneath Pete’s touch, arms loosely hanging around Pete’s shoulders and legs wrapping themselves around Pete’s waist. “But still. That’s not a good reason, Pete.”

Pete laughs, falling a bit on the bed as she struggled to carry Trick’s dead weight, which only makes Trick cling on to her harder. Pete is reminded once more of sirens who drown their lovers into the sea, but this time it's a bed whose covers still reeks of last night, unsurprisingly, Pete doesn't mind (but that's because she's disgustingly in love and she's just an all around disgusting person). “Trick, c’mon, everyone loves you.”

“Not true.”

“Okay, because I love you. Can you do it for me?”

“I know you do. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Trick’s face appears from where it was hiding in Pete’s neck and there’s a wide grin on her face. Pete is stupid, stupid, stupidly in love with Trick.

“Jesus, you’re easy.” Pete laughs as she lays them both down on the bed. Trick immediately wraps herself around Pete’s side, her head resting on where Pete’s heartbeat was. “Bet I could get you to do anything I want if I say it enough.”

“Fuck you, Wentz.” Trick says without any heat. “I don’t know about that.”

“I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you. Trick, I’m going to marry you someday.”

“You’re not serious.” Trick laughs while Pete toys with the band of Trick’s bra, fingers slipping underneath it, no purpose, just to explore and wander Trick’s bare skin, to tease Trick and drive her crazy. Trick lets Pete for a few seconds before pushing her hand away, the same mischievous grin on her face and glint in her eyes when she’s about to do something dirty. “I like where this is going though, tell me more.”

“I love you I love you I love you, Trick. You’re going to love me forever and you’re going to stay miserable about it. I’m going to make you miserable in every fucking universe. I’ll boycott love and all that shit, revolt against it if we don’t end up together. It’s not love if it’s not with you.”

Pete's mouth is tingling a bit, like tv static, like adrenaline, like kissing Trick, like tiny pins and needles, like shooting stars landing on her mouth. Pete's opening herself up, all the honesty and vulnerability and all the love, presenting herself to Trick and Trick wants it all, this little patchwork that is Pete's feelings; it's dizzying to think about.

Trick laughs again, full bodied, everything coming out of her always sounds like music (this laugh, here in this shitty motel room with its cheap fluorescent lights sounds just like how modern rock and roll feels like) and she swats Pete away from her, “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m easy and you’re good with words”

“I love you.” Pete says one more time just because. Pete holds Trick close and Trick doesn’t squirm away this time, she holds Pete’s gaze steady.

Trick kisses her. That’s all they know how to do, the only thing that’s sure, that’s true. Pete could lose all the words running through her head, all the words she's written on paper and on the back of Starbucks receipts, all the words in her mouth that she can twist into a pickup line. Speaking's always been something Pete knows she's good at, but kissing Trick? It's something she's sure of. Pete's never going to not know how to kiss Trick when she’s like this; warm and open, hands exploring every inch of Pete like they're eighteen year olds looking over a map, learning all the best routes to run away to California now that they were finally free; this buzz of something new and the warmth of something familiar. Kissing Trick, it's muscle memory now in the same way Pete can still perform old routines from freshmen year, muscle memory like how she can still play the piano even though she gave up on it after she was fourteen, or even shit like basic math (most of the time, okay, truthfully, sometimes, only when it's two figures at most). When Pete kisses Trick, she sees stars in her head, little stars spinning around, making her cross eyed and dizzy (although, that just might be from the lack of oxygen, they've been kissing for a significant amount of time now without pulling away to breathe). Stars are always on Pete's mind now, little shooting stars like Pete can make an infinite number of wishes, but she wouldn't, because all she really needs is her superstar cheerleader girlfriend and now that she knows it, the taste of starlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while writing this chapter i got really tempted to completely change where this story was going bc im having so much fun writing about them being in love and i feel so so guilty for what they're going to go thru in the future but, well, i love drama so the original angst this fic was going to inevitably go thru is still happening !
> 
> if u guys can leave kudos and comments i'd really love that :D writing this feels a lot like coming home so i hope there are ppl still here kdjnsdj thank u so much if ur still reading n for putting up with my awful, inconsistent posting nsndsd


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